Kiss or Kill
by BleedingHeartsoftheWorldUnite
Summary: Everyone had a choice - Chris had made his, but he wasn't the only one involved. Enter Black Heart, the Harley Quinn to his Joker. AU. Summary to be updated later. Chris/OC, Dave/Mindy, some Chris/Dave, Dave/OC.
1. Chris and Emily, issue 1

The tinted sconces and shaded lamps were dimmed even further via a small dial on the wall, the paint beneath covered by a healthy smattering various comic-related posters, although one or two depicted musicians, what some might call 'drug paraphernalia', and scantily clad women. To further heighten the sensation of being underground - the room itself ironically a good thirty or forty floors above street level - a heavy curtain was thrown against the window to keep the sun out, a slit in the fabric fastened in front of the glass door that lead out to the balcony. A desk was shoved into the back corner of the room, heaps upon heaps of comic books piled high in protective slips all around in precariously stacked columns, and a rather simple king-sized mattress was shoved just opposite of that, dark cotton sheets folded with a matching comforter.

Tendrils of smoke were twisting a smoldering gray path through the air, a sweetly stale smell curling through the oxygen, perverting the air, penetrating the long-abandoned virginity with cruel fingers, the spreading fumes blowing her tantalizing kiss of submission. Lit up in an ornate bong, the burning cannabis was steadily filling the lungs of a teenage boy of roughly sixteen or seventeen, his green eyes glossing with a red sheen. Leaning back in a low, silver-studded armchair facing a sleek HD 3D flat screen, he laughed at reruns of an old cartoon from the seventies. Seriously, that shit was so fucking lame! How the fuck where they ever able to get this shit put out on television?! Jesus, and people bitched about TV nowadays?

Taking another hit, the boy was about to change the channel when the intercom came on, the doorman, ol' who-the-fuck-cares-what-his-name-is wheezing and moaning as the old man was transfered over to his own personal line, cackling from years of smoking when he spoke, "Sir, Miss Vela is here to see you."

"Emily?!" He coughed, agitation at being disturbed simmering when he heard that she was the one calling on him, as opposed to it being some fake-ass mother fucker that was only using him for his father's connections. Emily was different from all those tanorexic sluts (whom he would still gladly fuck, provided the opportunity arose). "Well, what the fuck are you waiting for, shit-for-brains?! Send her up!"

Getting up, he shuffled around his room, cleaning up things he didn't particularly want her to see, such as throwing a towel over the wastebasket by his bed and stuffing the box of Kleenex into his underwear drawer - as for all the other shit, he could care less if she happened upon it. As he had learned early on, she wasn't some prissy little girly-girl that squawked at the most minute of messes, and yet he still felt some archaic need to impress her, and somehow leaving evidence of his lonely-man lifestyle felt a tad bit counterproductive to that inate desire.

Going back to his spot in front of the TV, the young man didn't have to wait long for his surprise guest to arrive, although, while he waited for her, he thought back to how he had first met Emily...

[**One Year Ago.**..]

Among the numerous guests at his not-so-sweet sixteen, a majority being the children of his father's clients and associates, there weren't too many faces that Chris didn't recognize, which was kind of a disappointment, because as much as he wanted to show his father that he could be a success, he kinda hated all of the two-faced cocksuckers. Sure, a number of the future gold-diggers were insanely hot, but their heads were so far up their pilates-toned asses that they still didn't give him a second look, not even on his birthday, at his own house. Fucking cunts. Pouting in the corner like some beaten dog that regularly gets sodomized by its hillbilly owner, Chris had gone outside for air, even before he had the chance to greet all of his guests. Head in her arms as she sat on the thick concrete slabs that formed the upstairs fencing, face turned away from the penthouse as she overlooked the glittering night skyline, a girl had already beat him to the punch of moping.

"Some party, huh?" He sighed forlornly, leaning over the balcony next to his unidentified guest. Pretending to be looking out at all the other buildings, he was peeking over at her, trying to glean just how good-looking she was, but that was kind of hard between all of the hair falling in her face.

Peeking over her shoulder at him, eyes a dulled emerald, she shrugged noncommittally, sizing him up just the same way that he was her. He wasn't the definition of handsome, nor was she the model for beauty, but raging hormones coupled with some small level of desperation really went a long way. "I wouldn't know. I came out here as soon as I could."

He quirked a dark eyebrow, wondering if she even knew who he was. It was hard to believe that she couldn't, but given that he had never seen her around before, it wasn't impossible that she was truly in the dark as to his identity. "You didn't even greet the douchebag throwing the party?"

She returned her gaze to the sky, trying to play that coy figure that everyone seemed to favor, regardless of gender. "I thanked his parents for the invite, but the birthday boy was AWOL when I got here. So I came outside, to the bullshit-free zone. I figured that in another couple of hours, everyone will be so plastered they won't even remember why I was dragged here in the first place, so then I can get away."

"And why were you brought here?" He inquired lightly, crossing and recrossing his arms as if he couldn't decide what to do with his limbs. He wondered distantly where she had planned to go after this, if there was some other dude in the picture. That would just be his fucking luck.

The girl didn't miss a beat as she stood up, her artfully torn up Batman shirt shifting in place over a wine-colored cocktail dress. Intentionally, she stuck out her chest to send the universal signal. "My dad owed his boss, who was hoping that I would hit it off with his son. Why, what about you? Judging from you being out here, I wouldn't say that this is your scene either."

"And what do you think is my scene?" He shifted his weight and leaned to the side of the railing, half trying to be cool and half trying to appear stern and stoic, like all girls loved.

She thought about it, looking him over on a less physical level, "You look nice, dressed in a designer suit and tie, so you want to impress your old man, but your lack of a formal jacket suggests that you also have a streak of independence. The way that you're kind of hunching would either suggest a medical condition or a social ineptitude, and since you're here, I'm guessing that its not entirely on you. The way you looked at my attire would lead me to believe that you are familiar with the concepts of nerds and hipsters, and I think you're trying to figure out which side I'm on, even now as I'm analyzing you."

He blinked, never once having experienced a five-second evaluation before. "That was... thorough."

The girl nodded earnestly, "Like my idol, I want to be a psychologist."

While that made a large amount of sense from her critique, he had never once heard anyone saying that they wanted to be something so ordinary, but then again it wasn't like he was on speaking terms with anyone to know what kids his age talked about being, and even if he had been, he probably wouldn't have cared. "A shrink? Why? Who's your idol? Sigmund fucking Freud?"

She shook her head slowly, realizing that she had said too much and revealed a branding secret, one that already branded her back home (where she had lived with her mother before moving back to the city with her father), thus blowing this one opportunity with a genuinely interesting guy. "No, it's stupid... You'll just laugh at me."

"I won't!" Chris was in no position to pass up a private conversation, no matter how unorthodox the subject matter was, especially when it was with a member of the opposite sex. Sure, there was always the option of a prostitute, but for one his father would probably put his foot down on that shit, and two, when you had to pay for their time, why bother wasting it talking? "Honest."

She gave him a piercing stare, finally deciding that she might as well say it, since she was probably never going to see the kid ever again. "...Harley."

He snorted, thinking that he must have been mistaken about exactly who she was talking about, because she couldn't possible mean the woman he was thinking of, "As in Quinn?"

The girl dipped her head, maroon side braid remaining mostly motionless. "Yeah. Harley was always my favorite Batman villain. I thought it was so cool how she put everything on hold for love, that she was a professional that turned her back on what was socially acceptable to do what she felt was right. I can't think of anyone that awesome in real life."

"What's your name?" Whoever this girl was, she was kind of awesome herself - it wasn't every day that he met a chick that was into comics.

"... Vela. Emily Vela." Her parents had taught her better than to just give out her name like that, but she kinda liked this guy, because he was the first person she had met that didn't judge her for her tastes. That feeling was exceptionally mutual.

* * *

***Update: 9-4-13*** I don't usually do this, but if you want to read Chris/Red Mist and Dave/Kick-Ass lemon, you should skip to chapter 9/ Red Kick, issue 4. If you don't like that pairing, you should just skip to the following chapter (once it's out). Personally, I hope you don't skip any of this, but I realize that not everyone likes the same kind of stuff, and I respect that. Thanks!

***Update: 9-9-13*** To just get to the point, the first five 'issues' are about Chris and an OC, Emily, hence "_Chris and Emily_". "_Red Kick_" - chapters/issues six through ten - is about Chris and Dave, while "_The Real You_" focuses on Dave and Mindy (I anticipate that to last through chapters 11-15). "_Black Heart_" gets back to the Mother Fucker and Emily.

Ok, I saw both movies multiple times and got caught up on the comics (ok, so as of this chapter I'm on Hit-Girl issue 3 (I should note that I've started it after reading Kick Ass 3)), so I think I've got a fairly good grip on things. Besides being completely obsessed and in love with the property, I think the only other thing I really have to say is that I'm still unsure about which universe to center this closer to, the comics or the movies, so I'm thinking that I'm going for a third, more blended take on things. So, yes, some things might get changed, but really I wouldn't count on a whole hell of a lot being different. Although, I still don't know if I want to go with Genovese or D'Amico for the surname... I'm aware that makes me look really unprepared, but I do have a story up my sleeves, I promise! Oh, and I'm not really used to spraying a butt-ton of profanity in my work - that's just me keeping with the source material. Oh, and the cover is my own painting of the Mother Fucker (film version), but its a first draft piece...

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr.


	2. Chris and Emily, issue 2

Standing there in the doorway of Chris Genovese's bedroom was a girl in her mid to late teens, gazing adoringly at a boy; his lean frame draped casually against the side of his armchair as he propped up an elbow to look over at her, his dark hair all a mess as it spiked this way and that, green eyes grazing into a darker brown territory (from the weed permeating the air, impregnating it with a heavy load), a boy that she had really come to like, that she would do next to anything for. Raising his hand before bringing it to his mouth to cover his asthmatic coughing fit, Chris waved at her, inviting her to come over and chill with him. Smiling at him as she entered the room, tossing her spicy eggplant of a shoulder-bag into the corner, the contents shifting precariously from her carelessness, Emily strolled by the other (mostly unused) armchair, banging her shin into the semi-comfortable square - which would be a lot more appealing if anyone had ever actually sat on it - as she bypassed the genuine leather.

"Fucking A!" Grabbing her jeaned calve, Emily hobbled the rest of the way to sit on the arm Chris wasn't still leaning against, eyes streaming as she let it out like a sailor at sea, "Hovering sucking cunts! Fuuuuccckkkk! Why do you even have that god damned demon seat?! Mother fucker!"

Thinking that she was just being a big baby as she bitched over spilled milk, or whatever the cliché was (did it have something to do with cats? Whatever, like it mattered) Chris shrugged her pain off, handing her his piece as she settled, watching as she took a few hits before passing it back to him. While they *cough* Emily *cough* primarily kept her dosages considerably mild, Chris wasn't a stranger to dancing on the grave of overdose in a mocking fashion; in another vernacular, drugs weren't an unknown third companion for the duo.

Waiting for his next turn, Chris would vary his viewpoint from looking between what wasn't manufactured by the teeshirt companies and the larger picture, glazed-over orbs finally catching sight of her bag. While most bitches carried purses, Emily always had her backpack, which he felt was far more practical. "Another fight?" She nodded, a moody darkness in her face indicating that it wasn't a subject to be elaborated upon. "It's cool, you know you can crash here for awhile, until shit cools off at home."

As if that would ever happen! If it wasn't enough that her mother called almost every other weekend asking her to come back (back, to butt-fucking Vermont, where there was shit to do expect for either run away nightly or be subjected to the noises of her mother's amateur porn hour), her dad was also picking fights with her about the lack of direction her life was taking! Art was a legitimate option, but the way her old man was going on about it, she might as well have said something insane, like she wanted to go back in time and be Jack Kirby, or a fucking washing machine! So Emily had relocated to her uncle Javi's, but lately even Javier was getting on her case; his target of choice was less the when and where spent her time and more of the who she was spending it with. Emily and Chris had been together for awhile now, and it was obviously serious, but he had misgivings about her dating the son of New York's most dangerous gangster (who had just so happened to be employing a majority of the family), so he he had started to lay into her about her choices too.

Coughing as she passed the giver of marijuana back, Emily wondered aloud, "You sure your parents are cool with that?" Sure, his dad might have been the one that wanted them together in the first place, but something told her that his mother disapproved. Maybe it was the relationship, or perhaps it was just the young artist herself that she looked down upon, but either way, Emily always had the distinct impression that she might as well be dead in Chris' mom's eyes. But she didn't take it very personally, because Angie Genovese was a woman that seemed to dislike anything underneath her own rigid standards, including her own son. "I mean like your dad and stuff."

He scoffed, "My parents can go fuck themselves for all I care. I want my lady over for a couple of days, my lady comes over for a couple of days." Even stoned out of his mind, Chris didn't miss the doubt enhancing the natural pout in Emily's lips. "I said don't worry about it. You just get settled, and I'll deal with them."

Beaming at Chris' bold statement, unsure about which she part she liked the most - him standing up for her like that, or the commanding, possessive way that he staked his claim on her. Probably the later. Fine, it was DEFINITELY the later. Maybe it was watching both her mother and step-mother getting talked down to her entire life, or maybe she was just sick, but one thing Chris had picked up early on about his girlfriend was that she actually got off on being dominated. Slipping down the armrest to sit in his lap, Emily snuggled up against him, slathering his neck in butterfly kisses, but that wasn't really enough to show her appreciation, so it wasn't long before she became more aggressive, nipping and sucking at his flesh like a vampire or zombie that only would be satisfied by him alone. Because he wasn't already covered in her hickies...

[**Several Months Ago**...]

Set up to meet on his birthday, it was now Chris' turn to return the favor and go to Emily's for her birthday, but being the daughter of goons and chauffeurs, it was a considerably smaller affair, and with the Vela's being so focused on family, it was much more intimate, with only a handful of individuals not related by blood or marriage. Naturally the Genovese's had been invited, which as boring as that made the night (making the guest list consist of only four or five people under the age of eighteen, and all of two over ten) it gave the teens the perfect chance to slink away. After the cake had been cut and the personal chatter and social climbing hit its peak, the dynamic duo crept away, upstairs to her bedroom.

While his was simple and dark - a total boy-cave - her's was almost exactly the opposite; baby blue walls, shelves lined with texts on beginner's psych and whole stores' worth of paints, a night stand with doilies - fucking lace doilies! - her bed was blanketed with periwinkle and curtained with a matching canopy. It would have been the epitome of girly, had the walls and furniture not been the victim of a one-sided paint war. The massacre of the rainbow was a very fitting personal touch, splatters even tossed randomly at the ceiling, dripping lime-green stains off of the crystal chandelier. And on that note, just like the lone speck of green to hit the dark hardwood, this was the first time he - or any boy - had actually seen her room.

Sighing in exasperation, a complete teenage drama queen, Emily closed the bedroom door behind her friend. "Don't you just love how they stop me from going to my room with a guy? At my own party nonetheless!" Shaking her head, her hair swishing from side to side, Emily ran her fingers through it, still not used to the fact that she had cut it just a few days prior. "Whatever. At least now we don't have to miss that superhero marathon."

"Great." Truth be told, as much as he loved those flicks, he would much rather be fucking her than watching movies he'd seen a billion times already, but Emily was a total fucking cock-tease! Sometimes she would come over in the sluttiest fucking things, once or twice he could have sworn she even went bra-less, but the minute he would try to steer the conversation towards moving their friendship to the next level, she would either just laugh at him (which was annoyingly cute the first time), or just change the subject entirely. Watching her as she sat down on the edge of her bed, dress revealing a generous view of something black that she was moderately quick to hide again, it would be a lie to say that he wasn't hitting zipper. "Just great."

Glancing over at Chris, Emily marveled at how he just wasn't seeing it - she had done everything she could think of to get his attention, to drop the hint that she wanted him to move that final ten percent, to make her a woman, but somehow even her strategic commando operation had failed to garner his attention. Chris had no idea what it was like to be a teenage girl, to have a hoard of slutty bitches always breathing down your neck, harping on you for every tiny little thing that they could, be it actually touching the food on your plate or having a best friend who was a guy that you weren't fucking. With Emily, the normal shit she didn't sweat so much, but the shit they were talking about her and Chris was really getting to her, wearing her down and combing perfectly with her doubts and insecurities - they had been nigh inseparable since they had met, and yet they still hadn't even kissed. The girls said that they had been close for months and still hadn't hooked up, that even he must have had higher standards to fuck a charity case like her, and she was beginning to wonder if that wasn't true...

Brushing the hem of her dress off, purposely making the material shift in a way that showed more and more skin, Emily tried to say as casually as she could, "Yeah, no one's going to be up here for a couple of hours... just us. I could probably scream for my life, and no one would hear me. Or you could. Or even the both of us... I mean, we're really alone right now." If she had to say the word 'alone' anymore, she was going to smack a bitch. "So,"she fished around, finally just blurting out, "do you think I'm pretty? I mean, like hypothetically."

He had failed to see what her damage was, changing subjects out of the blue. "What the fuck are you babbling about? Why the fuck are you acting so strange?" He demanded. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

Ok, that was it, she just couldn't take it any more! Growing a pair of five-second testies, she shouted, "Good fucking dammit, I swear you are impossible to figure out! One minute I think that you might like me, and then the next you're fucking oblivious to my existence! Honestly, I can't figure out how many times I've tied to drop the hint!"

"What hint? What the fuck is your damage you psycho... Wait, did you just...?!" She nodded, a dirty look on her face as realization set in, clicking the last several weeks into place for him. "For fucks sake, I thought you were the one being a god-damn cock-tease!"

She didn't know if she wanted to kill him or kiss him at that moment, or some dangerous mix of both. "I've been trying to get your attention for weeks now, you fucking retard."

Crossing his arms, he frowned at her. "I'm not the only one who's retarded."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Just get the fuck over here and kiss me already."

* * *

First things first, I'd like to thank Mieko-chan12 and DevilToBeLoved for your reviews! As it will become obvious, I'm very huge into thanking my reviewers publicly for their support (but if you don't want the recognition, let me know, alright?), so thanks! So, at least as far as last names go, I decided to lean more towards the comic book. I realize that it's lame/lazy to just put them as a couple from the very beginning, but the way I've set this up, I don't think its such a sin. Besides, I'm going to go back and flesh it out, how they came to be and that sort of thing, so its not like its just WHAM! they're a thing. Oh, and a warning - I foresee the next chapter getting dark...

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine.


	3. Chris and Emily, issue 3

**I warned you last time that shit is going to get real in this chapter...**

Reaching around Emily's squirming body as her love bites made it increasingly more difficult to continue smoking what was left of the pot, Chris shoved her back so he could be sure that the dregs weren't wasted, doing what he had to be done with the weed. Once that was in order, he shifted his priorities back to his girlfriend, kissing her collar bone, more or less where he had pushed her, a soft pink trace from his palm still glowing softly - perhaps he had exerted just a little more force than he had needed to? Well, it wasn't as if she had any problems with it, because she was right back where she left off, teasing his earlobe with her tongue, gently nibbling on the tender flesh.

As with most boys his age, it didn't take a whole hell of a lot to set him off, Chris feeling the blood rushing downwards as her breasts conveyed their own sense of urgency to become one, his dick grating against his dark jeans, rubbing abrasively against the thigh that she had shoved against his crotch for this very reason. Without any warning at all, her hands flew from his shoulders to his pants as she began to work on the copper button, ripping down the zipper. As much as he liked her enthusiasm, bitch needed to back the hell off for a red-hot minute - they were going to do this, but they were going to do it own his own terms.

"Jesus Christ, you're such a fucking slut!" Half foreplay and half just being a dick, Chris jabbed her once more, but this time he used his full strength, sending her flying back, her ass striking the carpet while her head bounced briskly against the sturdy coffee table. He wasn't worried, because she had taken worse hits, but the collision had disturbed his bong somewhat, sending a split-second of sheer panic rushing up his spine. Sure, he could easily afford more, but he was down to the last couple of ounces and his favorite dealer was out of town for the next two weeks. "Now calm the fuck down," Bending over in the chair, he grabbed her face in his hands, rough like sandpaper as he guided her chin to attention, threatening her in earnest, "or you won't get any dick tonight."

Emeralds wide with lust (and a combination of pain and drugs), Emily nodded at his promise (it was a threat he had carried out in the past, once even tying her down and forcing her to watch him cum to the scene in the first X-Men movie, when Rouge gets stabbed through the chest by Logan), throwing her hands in the air as she swiveled around 90 degrees, voice contrite as she whimpered breathlessly, "Don't be that mean to me... I can't handle that, not when its been a full seventy-two hours already..."

Rolling his eyes at the nympho he was dating, the young heir to the Genovese family crawled out of the dark chair and knelt over her prone form, tits heaving beneath her teeshirt, heart racing in an untamed furor, his legs spread over her thighs as he unzipped her pants, sliding them down her hips, past her knees, and totally off. Looking down at her stringy fire engine-red thong, presumably held in place by some kind of gem or metal charm, he paused to admire the Harley Quinn _Arkham City-_esque line-up of hearts just in front of her hipbone, each one outlined in the same color as the insides of the last, the first being black with a red exterior. Running his thumb across the months old ink, the tattoo acquired in secret on their fourth date, she moaned as the anticipation grew, her pussy already quite wet at the thought of her boyfriend fucking her brains out, his hard dick throbbing in response to Emily's plea, crushed in agony as his cock fought for full freedom.

While he was preoccupied with examining her lower half, Emily had already removed her teeshirt and was in the middle of unhooking her aqua-plaid bra, hands struggling and fumbling as her mind began to black-out from the sensations ringing throughout her entire body, Chris' index finger finding its way inside of her pink flower, "Yeah, touch me there!" A second finger slid inside of her warm crevice, the heat burning his hand as he rubbed her insides, twisting his digits around, making her leak even more juice, earning a loud groan of pleasure as he inserted his ring finger. "I was touching myself in the elevator, just thinking about this moment..."

"You really are a fucking slut..." He felt inclined to point out the obvious, "There are cameras in the elevator. The fucking security crew can watch that shit, and God knows who else they show it to."

Tsking, Emily shook her head in disagreement, somehow manging to work in between her throes of ecstasy, "First off, I know that there are cameras in there, because I'm not retarded, so it was only over the clothes, and secondly, I used my backpack for cover. Besides, I know that you've already filmed me with your little pedo-bear nanny cam, so don't pretend like you care about me being filmed without my consent."

Chris shrugged as he removed all three extremities from her cunt, one right after the other. "I don't - I care about some other assholes watching my girlfriend get off." He looked at her suspiciously, the herb causing increased paranoia and forgetfulness, "And how do you know about that?"

Damn, the girl thought with a small degree of admiration, he really was baked - Chris had so thoughtfully coaxed her (and by that he had forced her) into watching him watching all the footage he had taken of them (and her by herself) the last time that they had made up after a fight. Maybe if he got pissed off enough, he would do it to her again? She kinda hoped so. "Just shut up and fuck me!"

Ah, now that phrase brought back the memory of their first time together...

[**Emily's Sixteenth Birthday...**]

_Emily rolled her eyes. "Just get the fuck over here and kiss me already."_

Not the first kiss for either of them, Chris stood in front of the birthday girl, placing his hands on her shoulders as he leaned in, just as shy as she was, if that could believed. Awkward at first as they weren't really sure what to do with their arms or which way to lean their faces - their first kisses had really been more of quick pecks - it took a couple of minutes and quite a few tries before they had discovered what worked (but at that point it still would be a number of practice sessions before the words like 'good' came into play). Eventually, their make-out session heating up once they had that kissing thing worked out, their tongues inventing a new variation of the tango, he had pressed her back parallel to the mattress, one knee bent by her side, the other still supporting his weight as he stood over her.

Panting heavily from all the stolen lip-locks, she pulled away from him, just enough to really look into his eyes, the lighter shades of green coming out to play this time, the sage undertones more of a mint. Into the kissing as much as she was, every second of rummaging better than the last, she wasn't ready to go any further than that, not just yet, so Emily figured that she had the responsibility of telling him that, "Slow down... I'm not ready yet."

Ghosting his hands up her back, familiarizing himself with the various contours, Chris was almost too busy leaving a trail of tantalizingly sweet kisses up the side of her neck to hear what she had said, but even with the thunderous hammering of his heart in his chest, the enkindled butterflies flapping their blazing wings in his core, he heard, and he was far from happy about her decision, everything grinding to a jarring halt, "What was that?"

Cocking her head to the side, she tried to explain herself, "I want to wait-"

"You want to wait?" Incredulous, he cut her off. "What about me?!" Leaning in closer, he rubbed his half-erect cock against her leg, showing her what she had done to him, nonverbally proving that she was at fault so she had to take responsibility. "What the fuck am I supposed to do about this?! What kind of a mega cunt taunts a guy by acting like a whore and then retracting everything she put out?!" He shook his head, covering her mouth with his hand before she could reply, unzipping his pants with the other, "No. I'm going to fuck you, one way or another."

Eyes wide with fear, Emily struggled frantically against Chris, throwing her arms out to shove him away, kicking her legs around to do anything she could think of to create an opening, but her squirming only served to excite him even further, her helplessness and futile fighting giving that last little push needed to get it up all the way. Frightened as she was, Emily didn't give up, not for a minute, wriggling and resisting his body weight and height. Throwing her hands out, she got him in the face, right in the mouth, two of her nails scratching him just under his eye and drawing blood, the droplets dripping from his cheek, spilling directly into her wailing mouth. Angry and turned on in equal measure, he jerked her mouth up into his, probing her open cavity with his tongue, smearing his own blood across her lips. While he shared his blood, she used the opportunity to knock him away, kicking at his stomach as she yelled out for help, scrambling on the bed to get away from him.

It wasn't good enough: Chris was already back up, a sadistic gleam in his eyes that told her exactly what was about to happen - as if there was any doubt in her mind - his human claws grabbing her by the ankle, her shrieks renting the air like a blade through an artery as he reeled her back in, belligerent and howling for help. She had said earlier that no one was going to hear them scream, and she wasn't wrong about that, but he felt sorta cheated. Oh well.

Before he could put his hand back over her mouth, Emily cried out once more, knowing in her heart of hearts that it was all in vain, "Daddy! Uncle Javi! Someone!" She choked on a sob, "Anyone...?"

Figuring that if he was really going to do this, he might as well go all out, Chris used one hand to cover her mouth; the other was used to reach up the hem of her rather poofy party dress, blinded of the view as his hand slithered up her frock and past a hundred layers of tulie. Savoring the terror in her lily-pad-green eyes as she realized that this was really happening, his hand slipped over her freshly shaved flesh, grazing the soft skin of her inner thigh, grasping the lower edges of her cottony panties. Yanking the fabric down with terrifying force, sliding it over her knees like some kind of faulty vice, he moved his hand back to the penultimate barricade, unleashing his dick.

Quite unexpectedly, and without a warning of any kind, he rammed his hips against her, forcing entry into that final obstacle as he popped her cherry. "Ssshhhh, it's ok baby." She wasn't sure if he was mocking her, or if that was a genuine attempt at offering comfort, but either way, Emily had began to cry, and it was from more than the rape. She had really liked him, and if only he had been willing to wait a little longer, she more than gladly would have given him the first bite of her apple pie. Watching as she broke down, her fight lessening to half-hearted motions, Chris was a little surprised to find that in her tears a newfound bid at freedom had emerged, her elbow digging into his ribs as he pounded deeper inside of her, which annoyed him more than it wounded, "Don't hurt yourself."

"Get off of me!" Mewling beneath his hand, she tried to push him away again, but he was already inside her, rocking rhythmically back and forth, hips speeding up and slowly down at maddeningly irregular intervals. It was obviously his first time. "Stop it, Chris, you're hurting me!"

It was true that her body was shivering as it tried to reject what was happening, that her tears were a salty mixture of pain and heartache, but he failed to see how some part of her wasn't enjoying this. On so many different levels the sex improved in their future, but even this wasn't so bad - he could see doing this again, even if that meant that he had to continually take it from her. And what could she do about it? He had taken her powers from her, that gift that most females competently wielded to manipulate her lover, so how could she possibly stop him? Sure, she could always tell someone what he had done to her, but his old man had certain ways of dealing with all kinds of problems, so something told him that that her snitching wouldn't be an issue, so all that left was her trying to avoid him.

Mulling all of that over, and possible ways to prevent her from seeing that escape was her only option, Chris pulled out the one viable answer he could think of, saving it until he had finished fucking her, ejaculating inside. Moving his hand from her mouth at last, he brushed his thumb across her cheek, palm stained with her make-up. "I love you."

Wincing as he withdrew his manhood from her - the semen oozing everywhere as it gushed every which way, spilling in a small pool on her dress - collapsing on the space at her side, Chris collected his thoughts, feeling proud that he had finally gotten laid. Emily, on the other hand, openly wept as she curled into the fetal position, her back to him, mind trying to process what had just transpired, playing back the last couple of minutes from every conceivable angle, but she just couldn't register anything, just the numbness that had blanketed her in shame. In more ways than one, she had been broken - her spirit, her body, her heart, and worst of all, her mind. In some secret place in the back of her mind, she had always wondered what it would have felt like to be raped, to be made into some living sex doll, and now that it had happened to her, nothing felt real anymore.

The teenager couldn't begin to fathom how Chris had done that to her, but even more baffling would be the question as to why he wouldn't, because after all, it had been her fault, hadn't it? Really, going to the lengths she had gone to, wasn't it only right that he should take what she had promised? And he said that he loved her, so it must have been for her own good that acted in that way, right? He loved her, and he would probably be the only guy that would, could, ever want her, so who was she to be so selfish as to only think about herself?

Perceiving that he had taken all of the power in their relationship in this one act alone, and as a bonus ensured that she was so very unlikely to leave, Chris was kind of proud of himself for this accomplishment, feeling as if his father would be proud of his son, assuming that he had ever found out about this triumph. Glancing over at Emily for the first time since cumming inside of her, Chris wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close, the warmth of her body radiating as they spooned. He whispered into her hair, "You'll always be mine, won't you?"

Her body still felt wrong about everything, skin crawling the wrong way, but even still, the many fragments of her psyche told her that that was all she would ever know, that in time it wouldn't feel this way anymore, that the pain would finally stop, "Of course..."

Within the coming months, poor Emily would even realize that she _did_ enjoy it, being owned like an inanimate object, talked down to and treated like shit. She got off on it, so long as Chris was the one doing it - anyone else even tried to talk down to her, she would fucking punch 'em in the cunt and feed their corpses to the mother fucking sharks. What was frightening, more in that adrenaline-rush sort of way, was watching just how dark Chris could get - she knew that if he were to be pushed far enough over the line, it would get ugly...

But in the end, she knew that she would stand by his side, watching on as the world burned down at his feet. At _their_ feet...

* * *

Yeah, I wouldn't call sex scenes my forte, and like a dumb shit, I had to put two into one chapter! Well, technically one was a rape scene - which is god fucking awful, but in my own opinion, Katie wasn't his first victim - but it was all done in-character. As if that's any excuse... As for Emily's reaction, I wanted to point out that there all all kinds of reactions to something like that, that she was sick even beforehand, but that was the straw that broke that camels back. Oh, and on to a considerably lighter note, I should point out that I have yet to play any of the Arkham games, but I am familiar with Harley's design for them! Ironically, I'm actually a bigger fan of Poison Ivy than I am of Harley (but it's a close call). Even though I'm normally against self-advertisement/shameless promotion of my own shit, I actually have three pictures (ok, its the same one at various stages) of the Mother Fucker! Well, technically Chris D'Amico, since he's not in costume, but apparently there is no alter-ego, and he is just always the one identity (just like the heroes). Anyways, yeah, they're on DeviantART, if you wanna look at them, under BleedingHeartsWorld. Oh. My. Damn! I just had an epiphany! This is the first story I've posted with my new/current pen name, which I got from the Jim Carrey version of the Grinch which has Taylor Momsen in it! Taylor Momsen is in The Pretty Reckless, who sing the song at the end of the first movie! Jim Carrey is obviously in the second film, which also features one of my now favorite villains! Can anyone say 'full circle'? Granted, I did change my name before seeing Kick-Ass... But still!

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Poor, disturbed Emily Vela is mine.


	4. Chris and Emily, issue 4

Panting heavily, somehow finding themselves across the room from where they had started and on Chris' bed, catty-corner from the door, the dysfunctional duo - not a bad name for a team - could feel it rising in their bodies, in each others, that wondrous white wave that could make everything better for one perfect instant. Throwing her head back, Emily barred her neck at the world, her back glued seamlessly to his bare chest, Chris' chin digging into her shoulder as he glanced downwards at her tits, pert nipples pinched between his greedy fingers. It was laborious to determine what the louder sound was between singing moans of building bliss and the slapping melody of flesh pounding against flesh - whichever it was, there was just no way that either of them could have heard the bedroom door opening.

It wasn't like he didn't knock, but the tv was coming in too loud, and the same could be said of what he took to be the stereo in the background (it was not the stereo), so it wasn't intentional when John Genovese came into his son's room at the wrong moment. "Chris-" His mouth fell when he rounded the corner and saw his son...

Right at that exact moment, just as his father swerved and saw them going at it like rabbits in heat, Chris came, emptying his load simultaneously with Emily's Grammy-worthy orgasm. While it was easy enough to cover her convulsing form with the pillow - Chris would be damned if anyone got a good look at his girlfriend's body without his permission, even his old man - there was no hiding the sticky glob that poured out of her quivering crevice and down the side of his sheets, the darkness a perfect contrast to make it that much more obvious. In that awkward, stunned silence - the only sounds her dying and muffled moans - it easily could have been an hour before anyone spoke.

Being older, used to this and worse as the head of a mafia family, John recovered first, clearing his throat, "Chris, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go catch a movie with me this weekend." He looked at Emily, vindicated - now first-hand - of his decision to set them up for this very reason, offering her the same invitation, "Emily's more than welcome to come too."

He clearly didn't mean it that way, but to them, especially to her, they took it in that way, but while she blushed and tried to cover her face with her hands, Chris was vocal about it, "Dad!"

John rolled his eyes at the teenage brain in general, "Grow up. You ain't the first couple that's ever been walked in on." Oh, and with all the emotional scarring, he almost forgot the second part of his message. "Dinner's going to be ready in thirty. Emily, I trust you'll join us? I'm making Tortellini Primavera." John made killer Tortellini Primavera, so even if she wasn't intending on staying over for the next few days, she would just for dinner.

"Dad, Emily's going to be staying over until Javier takes the boot out of his ass." While it wasn't every night that his father cooked dinner himself, it was a common enough occurrence that he wasn't fazed by that news in the slightest. So instead, Chris explained the situation, posing it as more of a statement than a request. If his dad tried to pull some lame shit and try to say that she couldn't stay, he was sure as shit going to hold this over his head until he agreed.

Thankfully for him, the elder Genovese really did like harmless little Emily, so he wasn't the issue, and considering that he was the boss of her entire family, they weren't going to be much of a headache either. It paid to be the boss. "You can stay as long as you need to, sweetheart. Just try to remember that Chris' mother is skulking around, alright you two?"

Yeah, because they were going to just randomly start fucking each other in every room they possibly could. Ok, that was a tempting idea, but so long as they were shacking up, location was a non-issue. Speaking up for the first time since stripping down, Emily nodded gratefully at her boyfriend's father, "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate your understanding and generosity."

Turning to leave, John said over his shoulder, "This one's a keeper Chris."

Once he was gone and the door closed, Emily looked at Chris smugly. She didn't say anything, but the look on her face was speaking volumes...

[**Dinner**...]

Cleaned up and seated at the table, John serving the meal he had prepared himself, his wife at his right and son at the left, their guest seated at Chris' side, the kids still had yet to break the news to Angie that her son would be living in sin with a horrid temptress (at least that was Emily's thoughts on how she would take the news). He might have told his father how it was going to be, but Chris wasn't quite as prepared to deliver the message to his mother, no matter how hard Emily was kicking his shin nor how many times his father kept nodding to the right.

But Angie was no fool - watching like a hawk the minute that it came to her attention that they had company, she noticed several small things, such as the fact that both teens appeared to have just stepped out of the shower, that the girl was being extra considerate, going so far as to help John prepare the table, and worst of all, that little harlot was wearing one of Chris' old shirts. Normally the maid would have done that kind of thing, but she was having some problems with Immigration at the moment... That would teach the four-eyed chink to use the generic detergent! Too bad the Wexican whore wouldn't be quite as easy to get rid of...

Still holding on to a small ray of hope that Chris would break-up with the mutt and date a nice girl that would help steer him in the right the direction, something that as his mother she couldn't do in the same way that a peer could, Angie tried to keep an active interest in her son's school life, her hand never far from her drink as she inquired, "So, Christopher, how was school today?"

On so many levels it was a waste of time and money, because when he did actually go to class, it wasn't like he paid much attention anyways, and even without the shadow of his bodyguard, it wasn't like anyone went out of their way to talk to him. His mother's attempts at turning him into a 'normal boy' were just pathetic, and downright irritating. "Some nerd blew his eyebrows off in chemistry." And he got blazed with Emily in the school bathroom before ditching and going to _Atomic Comics_, but that was something he couldn't say to his mother.

Why did she bother even trying? "That's... riveting. Anything else interesting happen today?"

"Yeah, anything interesting happen today?" Emily chimed in, prompting him to tell his mother about their arrangement. She had no problem rubbing it in that she would be staying over, presumably sleeping in the same bed as her son at night, but she knew that it was not her place to break that kind of news, and just poor taste to be so rude to his mother. "Anything at all?"

Obviously she meant besides getting walked in on screwing her. "Not really..." He shrugged, trying to think back to the gossip circulating in the hallways, coming up with something that might have only happened in some TV show, "A cheerleader broke her neck during practice. Didn't die though. Shame." While his mother snorted at his enthusiasm, Chris craftily slipped in, "Emily's staying over. And there's talk of a new Superman movie."

"What was that?" Growling like a rabid dog that should have been put out of everyone's misery, Angie slammed her glass down on the table, glaring at the whore that had basically been paid off to take her son's virginity and couldn't take the hint to see that she had overstayed her welcome.

Professionally, John Genovese was the one to watch out for, but Chris answered to a different boss (well, for now), sighing in defeat the stern scowl on his mother's face, "Emily's going to be staying over."

Angie rounded in on John, "Did you know about that decision?!"

Now they were all on her shit list, but at least the two men weren't a permanent fixture, "Now Ang, I'm sure that everything's going to resolve itself in a day or two." He wanted to add in for his wife's benefit that this was actually a good opportunity to show the kids just how hard it was to be a real couple, but he wasn't about to cower and grovel. What was the point? Not very long after Chris was born, things had disintegrated into the blurred afterimage of a business transaction, and the sex was quick to follow, so what was the point in appeasing the alcoholic? "Now enjoy your dinner before it gets cold."

Or warm. What, even if she couldn't say it, nothing was preventing Emily from thinking that all the older woman survived on was liquor. The poison of choice might have been different for the pair of them, but that was one area where they were rather alike - not that she would ever admit it out loud.

"Mom, don't be a cunt-"

"Christopher Genovese, language!" She shrieked as if someone had put a large, lethal spider on her plate, "Now I expect that kind of foul-mouthed language from your little Puerto Rican Raggedy Anne, but you were raised better than that!"

Emily scoffed, "You mean better than me. And I'm not Puerto Rican, I'm part Columbian, Lebanese-"

Interrupting her with a sound rather like a laugh, Angie turned her attention to Emily, smiling as fake as her tan, "A distinction without a difference, dear."

Aware of the eyes on her, so as hard as it was, Emily bit her tongue, "If you say so." She might have had better manners to attack her potential mother-in-law, but there was no way in blue hell that she was going to sit back and be spoken to like that, as if she were less than human. "But indulge me if you will, Mrs. Genovese, what is _your_ definition of a good woman? Is it some polished trophy that losses its golden luster as the years dry away the sheen, or is it a woman that stands by her man through everything, encouraging his greatness when no one else will? Now maybe I'm wrong about this, but I was always lead to believe that the real measure of a woman is the man that she stands behind."

Angie narrowed her eyes dangerously, outraged that she had been put in her place, unsure what fact flustered her the most; was it that it was a younger woman to speak to her that way, or was it that it was in front of her own family? Whichever, it stung considerably, and to add insult to injury, neither her husband nor her son had made a move to prevent or, or even to rush to her defense! Fucking ingrates! "All nice sentiment, but let's see how long you'll be around... And anyways, I thought that you were more forward than that, one of the lesbian feminist types."

"One might think that about me, but I'm really an old-fashioned girl at heart." She wanted to throw in the question as to if Angie Genovese had ever heard of one of those before, a heart, but she felt as if she had pressed her luck enough for one night.

Seeing just how stifling the tension was in the room, the pressed flowers in the middle of the table wilting from the sheer insenity of their continued silent battle, John finally stepped in, "Now, now, ladies, this is a nice family dinner."

Chris took his dad's cue, reaching for his fork and knife, "For fuck's sake!" He looked at his girlfriend, wondering if he hadn't quite fucked all the animosity out of her... Not a bad idea though...

* * *

I feel inclined to point out that things that happen/are said in this story are purely works of fiction and in no way reflect my own views. In fact, the only reason that the racist comments were put in the story is to explain Javier's accusation of Chris being racist. Honestly, had he not said anything about the way he handed out monikers, I probably wouldn't have connected those dots. Maybe that's just me though. No, the most I would have noticed is the sexism, when Chris complains that they had hired ''a chick" (that easily could have replaced the entirety of the Toxic Mega Cunts). Either way, it really bothered me, because in the comics I really didn't see Chris saying anything racist (Hood 1 and 2, yes), and in the first movie, his dad employed all races, and nothing was said then. Granted, I wouldn't put much stock into the second movie... Sorry, didn't mean to rant!

Took longer than it should have, but I finished Hit-Girl, so now I'm all caught up on the series, yay! And yes, that was probably a _very_ traumatic experience, for all three of them. Especially the kids. Now that's a way to win points with his mother! Seriously, that's probably not the best of ways to start things out. Wonder if things will ever improve between the two most important women in Chris' life? *taunting smirk * Oh, and I'm not familiar with Italian cuisine, so I just Googled 'traditional Italian food'. And here's to Irrajjmn and happy accidents!

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Poor, disturbed Emily Vela is mine.


	5. Chris and Emily, issue 5

***Possible Spoilers for** _Kill Bill 2_*

[**Three Weeks Later...**]

It took longer than any of them had anticipated for Javier to come to the conclusion that he just had to bite this one bullet to get his niece to move back in with him, because even with the daily dose of Angie, Emily was more than comfortable staying with Chris. He knew that he had to, for her parent's piece of mind, but to him surrender sent the message that it was ok for her to do whatever she pleased, that she could always just fall back on her boyfriend, and he wanted better for her. He loved Chris, just like he loved Emily, but that boy was only going to get that girl into trouble! The apology was eminent, they all knew that, but for now, they were all just waiting...

Sitting alone in the living room (John off at work and Angie God knows where), cuddled together underneath a large Spider-man throw, Chris and Emily were watching _Kill Bill vol. 2_, or rather it would be more accurate to say that Chris was quoting the scenes with near-perfect accuracy, while Emily was only half paying attention to her boyfriend, really focusing on the film, hanging on to every word exchanged between Bill and the Bride. They had both seen the movie dozens of times before, but somehow it had never hit her before just how intense that final meeting was between lovers.

_"You would have worn the costume of Arlene Plimpton, but you were born Beatrix Kiddo. And every morning when you woke up, you'd still be Beatrix Kiddo."_

Bill was right - you could wear a mask and hide your identity, but there was no running from who you were, what you've done, the faces of those that you had hurt. Emily wanted to run, to hide from the world, but how could she possibly do that when there was no running from herself? From the knowledge of what she had done...

"_Did you really think that your life in El Paso was gonna work?" Bill asked the assassin formerly identified as 'The Bride' with wide-spread hands._

_It was obvious that she wanted so hard to lie, to say that it would have, but she couldn't, because of the drugs he had injected her with. "No!" She pointed at him, "But I would have had B.B.!"_

How terrible must it have been, to be torn like that? To do something you ultimately knew would blow up in face, knowing that you stall had to try anyways? Emily couldn't imagine that kind of pain...

_Walking across the room, Bill sat across from Beatrix, asking the most important question he would ever ask in his life,"Now comes the $64,000 question. "Why did you run away from me with my baby?"_

_"Do you remember the last assignment you sent me on?"_

_"Of course." He leaned back, "Lisa Wong."_

_"The morning I left, I was sick. On the plane, I threw up. So I started thinking: Maybe I was pregnant."_

Chris interrupted at that point, inquiring not-so-subtly as to the workings of the female body, "Yeah, but don't bitches just, like, know when they've been knocked up? Not right away, but really fucking soon? Aren't there supposed to be signs?"

Distantly, as if a thousand miles away, Emily responded, "It's not always so easy to tell. You could get weaker, or more tender, or start getting sick, or none of that. Sometimes, its more internal."

"Oh yeah, don't your kind usually go through the rag?" She assumed he meant females. Or at least she hoped.

"I had my last period just before coming here."

He looked over at her, "I didn't mean you, dumbshit."

No, of course he didn't mean her...

_"Before that strip turned blue, I was a woman, I was your woman. I was a killer who killed for you. Before that strip turned blue, I would've jumped a motorcycle onto a speeding train. For you. But once that strip turned blue... I could no longer do any of those things. Not anymore. Because I was gonna be a mother. Can you understand that?"_

_"Yes." Bill, and the Bride, were now outside. Seated, he took a drink, "But why didn't you tell me then, instead of now?"_

_"Once you knew, you'd claim her. And I didn't want that."_

_He poured himself more, "Not your decision to make."_

_"Yes. But it's the right decision, and I made it for my daughter. She deserved to be born with a clean slate. But with you... she would've been born into a world she shouldn't. I had to choose. I chose her." Beatrix walked over to the table. "You know, five years ago, if I had to make a list of impossible things that could never happen, you performing a coupe de grace on me by bustin' a cap in my crown..." She sat down at the table. "Would've been right at the top of the list. I'd have been wrong, wouldn't I?"_

_"I-I'm sorry. Was that a question? Of impossible things that could never happen - yes, in this instance, you would've been wrong."_

_"Well?"_

_"When you never came back, I naturally assumed Lisa Wong, or somebody else, had killed you. Oh! And for the record... letting somebody think somebody they love is dead when they're not is quite cruel. I mourned you for three months. And in the third month of mourning you... I tracked you down. I wasn't tryin' to track you down. I was tryin' to track down the fucking assholes I thought killed you. So I find you... and what do I find? Not only are you not dead... you're getting married to some fucking jerk. And you're pregnant. I overreacted."_

_She was waiting for more, but it didn't come. "You overreacted? Is that your explanation?"_

_"I didn't say I was gonna explain myself. I said I was gonna tell you the truth. But if that's too cryptic, then let's get literal. I'm a killer. I'm a murdering bastard. You know that. And there are consequences... to breaking the heart of a murdering bastard. You experienced some of them. Was my reaction really that surprising?"_

_"Yes. It was. Could you do what you did? Of course you could. But I never thought that you would, or could, do that to me."_

_"I'm really sorry, Kiddo... but you thought wrong."_

Learning from first-hand experience that she was wrong about that must have been hard enough, but to actually hear him say the words himself, confirming every worst fear that had probably kept her awake at night, haunting her in some darker corner of her mind, it must have been torture. Emily couldn't imagine a life without Chris - she wouldn't - because he was everything to her, and after the way that he had opened his home to her, essentially allowing her access to one of the deepest parts of him, she just failed to envision anything after him.

That was why it hurt her so much to be keeping this secret from him...

_Buzz. Buzzz_. Her cellphone vibrated in her back pocket. Emily was expecting a text from her friend Knight at any moment, so she answered her phone by the third ring, earning half a glance from Chris, who was more preoccupied watching what was left of the movie anyways. Tapping the touchscreen of her fancy smart IPhone, she read the message, _Got it. Lobby. Ten. _As if she could wait ten minutes...

Turning her phone off as she slid it back into her pocket, Emily looked at Chris, wondering if this would be the last time they would be speaking like this, as a happy couple in love. "Knight needs me, so I'm going to step out for a couple of moments."

Were Knight not gay, very soundly gay, Chris might have had an issue with his girlfriend just leaving in the middle of a movie like this, but because he knew that her good friend couldn't fuck a chick to save his own life, he was unconcerned with her departure, besides a slight feeling of neglect. But whatever, it wasn't like she had anything to hide from him, so it wasn't a thought in mind as he gestured for her to leave. Pausing as she walked around the backside of the glowing ivory couch on her way out, she leaned over, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing the side of his head.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, alright baby?" She kissed his cheek, dropping her voice to a whisper, "And when I get back," her lips went lower, brushing against his neck, hands caressing his chest, "I think I can find a way to make it up to you..."

Reaching up to reciprocate the gesture, his hand brushed her shoulder, "You better."

With all the reluctance in the world, probably more, Emily pulled away from her boyfriend, praying that she would be able to work this out with him in the way that she had promised...

[**Twenty-five Minutes Later...**]

Pacing back and forth in the quaintly tiled bathroom, no longer anywhere near the Genovese family residence but someplace much further than that, Emily Vela was running her fingers through her hair, practically tearing away large chunks at a time. Sure, she had taken a couple tests that had stressed her out in the past, for drugs and for her driver's permit, but none were nearly so bad as this...

Sitting up on the beaten orange counter as he watched her, legs dangling from the side and a complete tripping hazard for the distracted, Knight kept his eyes on the phone's timer at all times, glad that he would never have to go through this kind of stress. Not by choice, at least. "I still can't even begin to possibly fathom how you were retarded enough to think that you - the deranged nymphomaniac that you are - could not wind up in this situation."

Emily looked at her friend sideways, slowing to a temporary stop as his words hit her, genuine confusion setting in the dust. "Why am I a deranged nymphomaniac?"

He pretended to think about that, putting his finger to his chin in thought, "Hmm, let's see, now why would I call you that? Oh!" He snapped his digits as he figured it out, not easing up on her for a moment. "Maybe because you used a very zexually graphic photo of your man plugging you as your wallpaper? His personal ring-tone for you is the sound of you climaxing, and your Facebook page alone has been blocked on at least three separate occasions."

"Hey, the Facebook thing had nothing to do with Chris! That little blonde country cunt earned each and every threat! And I wasn't even mean enough to issue one for every song about each fucking doink to come along! And what, violence is a personal trait that you can't share with the world? Says who?!"

"The world." Knight was personally on her side with the Taylor Swift thing, but she really shouldn't have been so vocal on her views. "I love you like my own sister, but fuck Emily, who the fuck actually posts entire galleries of themselves cutting up-"

"It could have been worse what I showed!" Rattled, she interjected her own side, "Seriously, the problem with the world today is that you can show gratuitous amounts of one thing, but not the other, and then that one thing always varies! So one way or another, you're catching shit for the same exact thing someone else is putting out there while they get off Scot-free! Where the fuck is the justice there?" She grunted, "I swear, post one piece of art that one little shithead objects to, or doesn't really understand, and the whole world is suddenly up your ass."

Knight shook his head glumly, motions casting strange shadows in the flickering overhead lights, but maybe that was just the weed playing tricks on her already frantic mind. "You are one depressing bitch, you know that? Fuck, its no wonder you two get on so well."

She took that as a compliment, "I'm the only one that really gets Chris, and he gets me."

Knight rolled his baby-blues, "The makings of a truly happy family."

"Dammit, don't say shit like that! It's just me and Chris - there's no room for anyone else, not in my vision." Pouting, she crossed her arms over her chest and threw herself against the wall. "My soul was split into two pieces, not three."

Yes, yes, she was a lucky bitch for finding her soul mate so early in life. "Oh! So you had a vision?" He set the phone aside for the first time, clapping in mock joy, "Well that changes everything!" Frowning at the holes in her judgment, Knight picked up a long, rectangular box and held it in her face, "And I trust that this was a part of said plan?"

She smacked the box out of his hand, the side with the instructions landing face-up, "Fuck off!"

Shrugging indifferently, Knight stood up at his full height and made to leave the cramped women's restroom, but she reached out for him, "Don't go..." Her voice fell, that frightened little creature inside the tough exterior peeking out, "I'm sorry, I'm just scared. You don't know what its like, thinking that you're pregnant..."

Sighing at her helplessness, Knight hugged her, "No, I don't. But I do know what's its like to have a friend that will always be there to support you, even in your worst hour."

She smiled weakly. Yeah, too bad she couldn't even tell Chris about this, not unless she absolutely had to...

Ding, dinnggg, ding! The timer went off. Looking at each other in horror (well, the possible mother-to-be's face was aglow with the emotion, but his was merely caution personified), Emily took a deep breath and reached for the stick that was about to determine the rest of her life...

* * *

At this point in time, it might seem pointless to warn for spoilers for that movie, but like I've learned from personal experience, no matter how old something is, it doesn't mean that everyone's seen it yet. Not a lot happens, actually, and yet so much is suddenly on the line... Oh, and thinking in terms of issues (like _Kick-Ass_ is before _Hit-Girl_ and _Kick-Ass 2_), this is the end of _Chris and Emily_, but not the end of the story. Just thought I should tell you all that.

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight too.


	6. Red Kick, issue 1

Everyone knows the story of Kick-Ass, the world's first real super hero. Well, ok, maybe they didn't know the entire story, that he was really a high schooler named Dave Lizewski - the epitome of your average teen boy, complete with the anti-girl pheromone (in that they avoided him like the plague, and not in the sense that he was gay) - that he was just some stupid dick in a wetsuit he bought off E-bay, that he was a useless pussy until he encountered Big Daddy and Hit Girl. Hit Girl and Big Daddy, now there was the real-deal! Was it right that he had raised his daughter to know nothing but the kill? Of course not, but hands down, Mindy McCready was the ultimate badass.

While most girls her age learned about pointless things like which teen idol fucked which, Mindy was circumcising pedophiles and bashing in the heads of ex-cons with sledge hammers, and that was when she was on her own, without the back-up of Big Daddy. The preteen tween was completely lethal, every move a meticulously exercised step in a graceful dance of bloody carnage, and most amazing of all, she never once lost her cool: she never panicked when a room flooded with dozens of guys four times her size; never became nervous or apprehensive when she was getting beaten to within an inch of her life; she never winced or whined, always hitting hard with her banter. There was no one else like her in the whole world...

Dave on the other hand? There were probably millions of guys out there, each just like him, down to the clothes he wore and foods he ate - he knew that he was nothing special. But when he put on the mask and became Kick-Ass... Well, he was still the same kid, the same schmuck that got himself shanked and run-over by a car, that would keep any promise he made and risk his life by running into a burning building for a fucking cat, but as Kick-Ass, he felt like he was actually worth a damn. That was probably why he kept it up, why he couldn't give in and quit like he had tried to so many times in the past...

But we're getting ahead of ourselves here...

[**Not So Long After a Certain Viral Video...**]

Kick-Ass was everywhere, from the menu at _Atomic Comics_ to the late night TV talk show circuit (well, speculation and jokes), and while Dave Lizewski was still invisible, his alter ego was feeling like he could take on the world! But it seemed like the more popular he became, the more mob boss John Genovese was getting agitated, and while Chris completely understood why his father was losing it (it was those other two that hit like pros), it was really getting under his skin. Not only did his father have more important issues to see to (like teaching him the business), but his girlfriend was also getting on that bandwagon, becoming some deluded fangirl. It was fine when it was all fictional figures, with the occasional celebrity thrown in, but now that there was someone real out there, someone that she could actually literally fuck, it was getting on his nerves. So naturally, when the opportunity arose, Chis was quick to pounce on it...

However, while that whole sting operation was organized, Dave was still blissfully unaware of the sharks swimming in the tank, just waiting to strike at him the moment he dropped his guard. No, the only pressing thought in Dave's mind was of Katie Deauxma, of trying to convince her to contact Kick-Ass through his website, so that even if he couldn't help her as himself, at least Kick-Ass could. So finally, after much urging and prompting on her "gay" BFF's part, she finally promised him one night that she would seek the hero's help. He didn't have to wait long for her e-mail as she explained the situation in full detail, and the more he read, the more pissed off he got - wronging the sweetest girl he knew was one thing, but the minute he heard that she had been struck, he knew that the fucker had to pay. But, Katie didn't want that, and he respected the wishes of those that he helped, no matter who they were.

So, the very next night, Kick-Ass went to pay this Rasul guy a little visit, intending to anonymously leave a little message to leave Katie alone, or else (he was still mentally working out what the consequences would be if his warning was ignored). What he didn't expect was finding that he wasn't the only one to pay that cocksucker a visit. Or that he would meet the real heroes. That he would meet her... Hit Girl.

It was probably the trauma of seeing all those people die right before his eyes, but that night, before being woken by the family duo and threatened into silence (as if he was crazy or stupid enough to bring attention to them), he had dreams - very bloody, gruesome dreams - of her. Roughly four-feet tall, she would be standing over him, a sword pressed at his throat or a gun aimed right for his brains, and she would be smiling. It wasn't sadistic or cruel, but flirty and sweet. That smile disturbed him more than anything else...

* * *

Honestly, I'm on the fence with which I prefer as far as the Rasul/Eddie thing, but since its easier, I'm going with the Katie plot-line, even though I always thought that it was wrong for such a "sweet, goody-goody" to be fucking around with a guy in his - I assume - late twenties, early thirties. Well, he strikes me as being that old, but maybe he shouldn't have been that old. I dunno. Anyways, this part of the story is actually about Dave and Chris, but since I'm going in chronological order, I'm working in parts of some of the upcoming stories, since they happen during Kick-Ass 2. And as for the whole Emily cliff-hanger, we'll (and by that I mean you readers) just have to wait and see how this all ends up. Mawahaha! I'm evil. I know that this chapter is really short, but that's because I'm setting up for the next one!

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight too.


	7. Red Kick, issue 2

So now Dave knew that he wasn't alone, not really, because there were others out there: heroes - or in the case of Big Daddy and Hit Girl, the number-one consumer of kleenex thought that the term 'Badass Mother Fuckers' fit much better - existed in real life, defending the innocent. Well, when he first saw Hit Girl, that wasn't the very first thought in his mind, especially when she dispatched every last soul in that room apart from his own, but after they had come to him and set the record straight (making sure that they could trust him), their purpose became clear enough. But soon, the city began filling up with individuals in all manner of strange attire...

But there was one guy that was even stranger than the clothes he wore. He called himself Red Mist, and though he wore a mask, Dave would've hazarded a guess that he wasn't too much older than himself, possibly a senior in high school or collage age. Anyways, Red Mist was an even bigger overnight sensation than Kick-Ass had been, and while he wasn't in it for the recognition, it was safe to say that Dave was jealous, because the way that the media was trying to spin it, Red Mist was the first super to go public. That was fucking bullshit, and it didn't help any that his friends - particularly Katie - were all cooing over this dilweed! Sure, technically he had caught some big-name criminal, and that was hugely admirable, but Dave didn't see his ass getting beaten to a fuckin' pulp! Yet, having said all of that, he actually wasn't such a bad guy.

While there hadn't been a lot of action when the male duo had pounded the pavement (so to speak), they had gone out on patrol a couple of times now, and it was actually kind of fun to hang out with Red Mist, despite the fact that he was a fairly hardcore pothead. In fact, Dave was looking forward to the night more than ever before. Red Mist, on the same token, was also looking forward to hanging out with Kick-Ass, but for an entirely different reason...

Seated in the Mist Mobile, Chris pulled up outside of some rinky old building slated for demolition. Kick-Ass had told him to meet him there that night - he gave him credit that the kid was smart enough to always change up their meeting places - and like always, he had arrived early to case the area, to make note of any and all features of interest and importance. But tonight, he wasn't nearly as early as he might have hoped, because the green-clad hero was already outside, waiting for him.

"Red Mist!" Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, Kick-Ass waved at his friend as he walked up to the car and slid inside the passenger seat, "What's up, man?"

Hiding the glare he so longed to throw at the other boy, Chris faked a smile that could have fooled his own mother as he let him into the vehicle, "Eh, just got into another fight with my girlfriend." His face darkened as he thought of Emily and their latest altercation, "Be happy you don't have one."

Chris had mentioned Emily a couple of times, not by name of course, but she had come up in their conversations. They had been fighting a lot more than usual lately - mostly it had to do with her going back to Vermont so she could spend time with her sick mother, but this time it was about his Red Mist persona. She wanted to be his side-kick, claiming that it was to keep all the groupies at bay, which he did partially believe, but he swore that she had an ulterior motive, which was to meet Kick-Ass. To fuck him. Fucking cheating whore.

Unaware of the specifics, Kick-Ass only knew that they were fighting almost every other day. That probably sucked, but at least he had a girlfriend. "I don't know about that..."

"Bitches aren't all they're cracked up to be." Emily really was it for him, but the way she was, he might has well have had a couple different girlfriends between her sexual mood-swings.

Dave looked over at him sideways, eyes just a tad bit wider than normal, but Red Mist just blamed the blunt he had lit as they sped down 89th Street for that, "You have many girlfriends? Or are you more the one-girl-for-me type? I'm probably more the Peter Parker type, just waiting for my Mary-Jane."

Please, this fucker was so Peter Parker, in so many ways. Granted, he himself was so Bruce Wayne, but the quantity of pussy he brought in was probably closer to Superman with his one lady love, Lois Lane. But Kick-Ass didn't need to know that. "Pft, I am so the Tony Stark to your Parker."

"So are you the comic, solo Stark, or the Robert Downy Jr. version, committed to his Pepper Potts?" It was a fairly backwards way of asking if he thought that it was going to work out long-term with Emily. And rather nosy...

Young Mr. Genovese didn't have the answer to that, because he had been with Emily for what felt like forever now, but they weren't even close to being in their twenties yet. Sure, he loved her, and more than being the perfect woman for him (one that actually understood him and would gladly tailor her entire existence to fit his own), his dad approved of her (and he had from the very beginning, which was really important to Chris), but was that really enough? They'd probably crumble without the other, but did he really see a future with her?

What the fuck was this, Oprah or some shit?! "She's Batman Forever, not necessarily Batman and Robin."

Lizewski knew exactly what he meant, at least, he thought that he did; Red Mist's girlfriend, whoever she was, was the right now girl, the main squeeze for this movie, but just like they swapped Kilmer for Clooney, her place wasn't set. She wasn't Chris O'Donnell's Robin. Or maybe unlike Nicole Kidman's Chase Meridian, her place would dwindle down to what Elle Macpherson's Julie Madison suffered. Either way, Red Mist wasn't one hundred percent with his girlfriend...

Suspicious, Chris glanced over at him sideways, eyes narrowed, "Why?" Little shit better not be thinking of trying to steal his Kool-Aid!

"No reason..." But that wasn't entirely true...

* * *

But did Hit Girl really kill them all? After watching the first movie a million more times, I noticed that when Frank and Joe are talking about that night, they mention that only FOUR died at "that kid Rasul's place". Four. Now I didn't stop to count how many you see Hit Girl take out (yet), but it was sure as shit more than four, and that's not even counting the tart in the red dress. Now maybe only four of those guys were on Frank's payroll, I admit that, but to me, just for the average viewer's sake, they (being Matthew Vaughn and who ever else might make these kinds of decisions) really should have either just switched the names around, or given a higher number. And on that same note, did anyone else notice that the other guy they hit was "Sal"? Probably not what I'm thinking, but I wonder if the very same "Sal" they supposedly killed was our born-again leader of Justice Forever? Unlikely, but its not like they specify _when_ he was saved, or even what did make him change his tune. I'm just saying. Geographically speaking, I'm not sure if 89th street is a place in New York that would be likely to see Kick-Ass or Red Mist, but I do know that its in New York... The point is, I don't know how locationally accurate this story is. And as far as Kick-Ass and Red Mist go, I'd like to think that they got to chill for more than just that one night, so I'm pushing the fire back some. And as far as they go as a pairing, I'm not really sure where I stand, but I wouldn't be too surprised if something were to happen between the two... Normally, I wouldn't give something like that up, but I know that some peeps don't like that kind of stuff, so I figured I'd be nice this one time and warn you guys, just in case.

Oh, and an irony I noticed between their little chat is that neither of their love interests are redheads. lol.

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review! Please?

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight too.


	8. Red Kick, issue 3

As the night wore on, it became quickly apparent that there would be no action for Kick-Ass and Red Mist, unless you were to count the neck that the later wanted to snap; back and forth all night it seemed, his girlfriend had called him at least ten times in the last three minutes alone. First, there was a lot of yelling on both of their parts, and it sounded as if things were over. At least, that's what it had sounded like to Dave, but what did he know?

Backtracking maybe only fifteen minutes - fifteen very long minutes that seemed to go by much slower than they needed to - the Mist Mobile received her first call of the night, the identifier of 'My Bitch' scrawled across the glowing screen. Dave assumed that that was Red Mist's girlfriend calling him, but agitated by her or not, he was a little curious by the fact that the hero ignored her message - if she was calling him at work, wasn't there the very real possibility that she was in danger? But then it hit him: What if Red Mist was avoiding her calls because he was there? He knew that if he had someone special in his life, Dave would want to keep her away from all this shit, to protect her, even from those he called his allies.

By the second ring of her first call, the teen began to frantically search for some excuse to use to give Red Mist some privacy. Pointing out the window as they turned down a winding back ally, Kick-Ass indicated a good spot to pull over. "Hey, if you need to take that, we could pull over right here." So much for offering up some innocently lame excuse.

Oh, Chris had seen that spot well before it was pointed out to him, but now that numb-nuts had shown some interest in his personal life, he couldn't not take the call, not if he wanted to keep his cover. So he pulled over, taking Emily's call, "Red Mist speaking."

Dave couldn't make out what was being said - to be polite he turned as far from his fellow super as he could without actually actually leaving the car - but whoever was speaking sounded very distressed, "Oh, give me a fucking break, Chris! I _know_ that you're just screwing around with some bimbo! I hold off on visiting my mother - a woman on death's door - and you repay me by fucking around with some tart!"

Such a fucking drama queen! Emily's mom was so probably faking being sick just as some pathetic excuse to see her daughter! Probably. Emily hadn't seen her mother since moving to the city to be with her father, but from what he understood, her uncle had made her Skype her mother at least twice a week when she moved in with him. But the way that she was accusing him of cheating on her, he _should _have been.

He kept his answer short, mindful that he was not alone. "I'm busy right now."

"Oh! I bet you are," Emily was really fired up tonight, so fired up in fact that her insults barely made sense and sounded more like a fit of Tourettes as opposed to genuine anger, "You sorry sack of cum-guzzling she-tramps! Mother fucking blistering, puss-filled, pubic-"

He moved the phone away from his head as she ranted on, miming a gun to the head, whispering to Kick-Ass, "You see the shit I'm dealing with? This cunt is unbelievable!" Dave just kind of shrugged, unsure of what to say. Putting the phone back in its proper position, Chris replied almost automatically, "Baby, calm the fuck down, alright? Seriously, I'm working, and your blocking the line."

There was an audible snort that even Kick-Ass could make out, "Working, huh? Who is she?! I wanna hear the cunt you have lined up to try to take my place!"

He wanted to keep them as far apart from each other as he possibly could, but she was making that fucking impossible, so he looked at Dave imploringly, suddenly even more pissed off now that he had to turn to that jack-off for assistance, "Would you mind putting her at ease?"

Nodding, Dave took the phone from Chris, holding it to his head, realizing that he didn't have any idea how to do that, "Umm, hello?"

Ok, so it wasn't a woman... But she was still suspicious, "Who the fuck is this?"

"I'm Kick-Ass."

The phone dropped out of her hand, but she picked it back up, her tone so much softer now that she knew that her boyfriend wasn't currently lying to her (if only she could say the same), and with subtle hints of humility, "Can you give the phone back to my boyfriend now?"

He handed it back to Chris, who took it, counting the seconds that she was speaking to that scrawny fuck. "Believe me now?"

She sounded apologetic, trembling with contrition, "I'm sorry, I guess I was just worried that you were showing someone else your mood lighting..."

"What the fuck? I already showed him what the Mist Mobile could do. It was like, the first time we met." He didn't get that she was using a metaphor.

But she didn't know that he didn't get that. "Mother Fucker! The first night, really? Well fuck you very much, its over! I hope you like plugging his ass more than you enjoyed my pussy, because you are never going to see either of us ever again! You cunt!"

She hung up after that, but it wasn't long before she called again...

When it first started, Chris was annoyed, but he had kept it fairly level, answering her call on the third or fourth ring, just before it would go to voice mail. Now that she had dumped him (for maybe the third time that month), he wasn't in nearly so kind a mood. "What the fuck is it now?"

Pouting, no, more like wailing into the line, Emily was quick as always to realize her mistake and come crawling back on all fours. "Baby, I'm so sorry - You know that I don't mean it, that I get crazy jealous. Please, please, please, take me back? You know that this world will never be as kind to me as you are... I love you."

As if he ever took any of their breakups seriously. But sometimes, she just needed to sweat it out, especially when she went insane for no reason at all. "Maybe if you take that stick out of your ass, I'd consider it."

"Baby, you know that I'd do anything for you." She seemed to brighten up, a switch flipping somewhere. "Now, how about you come home early, and I make this fight worth it? Whatever you want to do, I'll do, and I won't complain once..." She dropped her voice, whispering, "If you want, you don't even have to come home - I can do it for you right now."

With that, it was his turn to lose it, thinking that this had been her plan the entire time, "You almost had me going there! For a moment, I was thinking that you were just pissed for no reason, or because you were on the rag or something, but this was your plan the entire time! You made me believe that you had faith in me, that I could this whole thing, but it was never for me - you just wanted to fuck _him_," Chris avoided bringing up Kick-Ass, even though he wanted nothing more than scream and shout at the both of them, possibly to find some way to torture them at the same time, "Fucking slut!"

Crying, even she wasn't sure why, "Is that what you think?! Dammit, if I wanted to fuck Kick-Ass, I would have just e-mailed him! You think I don't care about you? Well fuck you very much! Look at the wall I've built between myself and my family, all for you!"

Yap, yap, yap, she could try to get out of it all she wanted to, but that didn't change shit. Already in a bad mood that day, there was just no improving his viewpoint, so he didn't feel any remorse when he hung up on her, pressing the ignore button every time she called. Well, for the first hundred calls, but it was inevitable that he would change his mind and answer the call. On and on that cycle went, sometimes with him calling her, but it all was the same, as if some cruel god had found the repeat button.

Just watching as it unfolded, wills breaking and egos inflating, Dave now understood exactly what Red Mist had been talking about when he tried to explain just how much work it was being in a relationship. Sure, if Katie Deauxma ever gave him the chance, he would jump at it, but if it had been anyone else, he wasn't so sure he'd be willing to do anything more than a 'no strings attached' kind of deal...

* * *

Total random thing I noticed, but in the first movie, when Dave and co. are watching the TV report on Red Mist, Chris himself is actually standing there in the background, with Stu. I was really proud of that catch, but there are probably many of you that have already caught it... Oh well.

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review! Pretty please?

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight too.


	9. Red Kick, issue 4

_I have to fake it  
I'd leave if I could  
I'm not in love  
But the sex is good  
You can't mistake it  
Because it's understood  
I'm not in love  
But the sex is good_

Pounding past the crisp sound system, the song beat a catchy pattern in the brain itself, although if it weren't for the randomness of the radio, neither Kick-Ass nor Red Mist would probably be listening to the tune right about now. No, if they were honest with themselves, they would probably be hearing something a lot darker, like steel twisting wood and bone as the engine revved through the skull of a certain female. Of course, being the sweet, naive dumb-ass that Dave was, he only envisioned some kind of hardcore soundtrack playing in the background of some gritty fight. Either way, had Red Mist not grown fed-up with the six-ring circus that called herself Emily, they probably wouldn't have been listening to any music at all - just that endless loop of bitching, fighting, whining, and racy-make-up cooing.

In fact, Red Mist had become so angered by something that she had said, Kick-Ass wasn't even sure if he had hung up the phone before throwing it over his shoulder, the slender rectangle bouncing off the back seat and landing with a rather loud thud on the floor. He was so steamed, even the color red wasn't on his radar. A bit ironic, given his color scheme.

"That fucking bitch thinks that she can keep me in the dark?! I don't care how good she got at blow jobs-" Dave looked out the window, awkwardly embarrassed by his virginity status, but Chris didn't seem to notice, "- she's not the only girl in the world with a mouth and the capacity to learn." Eyes gleaming beneath his mask, Chris looked over at Dave, "Fuck, even you could probably learn faster than she did."

The red on Dave's face spread, and he had the distinct impression (thank you side-view mirrors) that the shade intensified. He stuttered a bit, "Wh...what?"

Hook, line, and sinker. Kick-Ass might not have directly taken the bait, but judging from the fact that he didn't inflate that almost natural male response to vehemently shoot-down any such speculation of homosexuality, it was safe to say that he was as good as reeled in, guts drying on the counter as he was tossed onto the grill and sprinkled with lemon juice. Damn, Chris might have been spending just a little bit too much time with his dad lately...

Well, if _someone_ *cough* *cough* Emily *exaggerated gaging* wasn't being so uptight about his plan, he might have been spending time with someone his own actual age. Seriously, the way that Chris saw it, she had no right to gripe about this, because she really did owe him...

But all the same, it was still too soon to dangle the primo vintage first edition (covered by a slip and untouched) before the nerd - not that Red Mist knew that Kick-Ass was the very same dork he saw almost every time he went into _Atomic Comics. _Looking over at the other boy, Chris played it off all nonchalantly. "What?"

Cocking his head to the side, Dave really wanted to ask something along the lines of 'did I just hear you right?' or even ' but I thought that you just...?', but he had no idea how to inquire without it coming out all wrong. So instead, he chose to play it safe and say nothing. Red Mist wasn't fooled by his deception however, because he was grooming to be the master deceiver...

"Well," Chris spoke up after several minutes of silence, "Tonight was a fuckin' waste of time. Sorry to waste you're time, Kick-Ass."

The green whatever shrugged, glad that the last topic had throughly been dropped, "No, I'd rather just kill a night doing jack shit than have to step in to some fucking gang-bangers brawling. It means that the city is somewhat safe for the night."

Chris nodded, mocking the emotion of understanding, "That's probably true."

Could there have been a more opportune moment? Sure, there probably could have been, but Chris was growing impatient...

"...I could always think of a few better ways to kill the time..." Leaning across the gap, Chris was inches away from Dave, his hand one good slip away from a real conversation starter. Reaching for the glove compartment, he pulled out a silver flask, also emblazoned with the Mist logo.

Before he had went for the compartment, Dave could feel the other boy, his leather-clad skin mere inches away from his own scuba suit, the warmth of his proximity rising a light, flapping sensation deep within his core. It was the same kind of feeling he had when he was close to a pretty girl, like Katie Deauxma. But Red Mist had moved away almost as quickly as he had come, shifting back casually in the driver's seat as he opened the flask and took a drink, downing the clear liquid.

Peeking over at his companion as he chugged on the throat-burning liquor, Red Mist suddenly removed the container from his lips, handing it over to Dave, "Want some?"

Maybe it was the feeling lingering in his stomach, the heat glowing radiantly, refusing to leave, but Dave couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else in Red Mist's words... No, he shook his head, he was being stupid... Wasn't he...?

As much as he wanted to decline, just like he had with the pot, Dave was experiencing feelings that he never expected to have, not towards another guy at any rate, and to be quite frank, it was scaring the shit out of him, so against his own better judgment, he took the flask. Looking at it uncertainly, he had no idea if it was a better thing to drink or not, since there was the chance that he could get snockered, allowing this whole night to spin horribly out of control, but if he didn't drink any, his nervous would probably do a good enough job of ruining the night for him anyways. Fuck, either way he turned, Dave was boned...

"I guess one drink wouldn't hurt..." Skepticism was oozing out of every breath he took, but Dave supposed that just one small sip would be the best alternative, since he had already grabbed the flask.

Smirking, Chris watched as the other boy put his lips to the flask, the bulge in his pants taking a slight ding when Kick-Ass took a pissy little sip. His disappointment was further tinged with anger when he spewed it all back out, shocked with the burn of the vodka. Son of a bitch, that was a total waste of a combination of cocaine (Chris thanked his father for having a nearly infinite stash around the apartment), weed, and Vodka! So much for drugging the other boy and just taking what he wanted from him...

But maybe it wasn't the end of the world...

With nowhere to spit but out, a large portion of the tainted beverage (Chris more than accustomed to such things) had landed on his crotch, leaving a rather dark spot on the fabric. Ok, well given the fact that he was in a wet suit, it wasn't _that_ dark, but Dave knew that it was there, and so did Red Mist, so that was bad enough... Jesus H. Christ, even as a superhero, Dave just couldn't be cool, could he?

But he wasn't the only socially inept psycho in spandex, now was he?

Reaching over the space once more, Chris began to stroke between the other boy's legs. Dave's first reaction was to throw him off, to question what the fuck he thought he was doing, but as much as he hated to admit it, it kinda felt good to have a hand that wasn't his own touching his cock. He had never thought about it before, but maybe it wasn't so bad to have another guy running his hands over his dick, because being a guy, he knew exactly what felt good, and because he knew that, Dave didn't have to say one word to correct him, or even to plead for more. Maybe that was the appeal of two girls fucking each other, from their perspective...

"Hmmm..." He didn't mean to, but Dave let out a low moan, his head rolling back against the seat.

Flicking his wrist, Chris unlocked the backseat, nodding his head over towards the back. Biting his lower lip, looking so crazy sexy as he did so, Dave still wasn't entirely sure about this, but by this point, there would be no dissuading Red Mist, not that Kick-Ass could possibly know that...

Just to make his point, Red Mist gave his junk a hefty squeeze; it was the kind of squeeze that said 'I'mma fuck your brains out, and you're gonna love it, bitch'. "You save the world, but who's going to save you?" That could have come out so many different ways, but the way that Chris kind of whispered it on the air, it sounded like a purr, like silk. It was the kind of line that would have made any average teenage (or adult) fangirl (or boy) cream in her panties.

Partially running, Kick-Ass slid out of the passenger seat and crawled into the back of the car, meeting Red Mist as he crawled in from the other side. Face-to-face for one of the first times that night, the two boys took one fleeting second to really look at each other, but Kick-Ass turned away more quickly than Red Mist, bashful of this entire affair. Chris, in all his evil, really savored this, hoping that this would be one memory the pot (and whatever else) didn't steal from him.

Dave and Chris, Chris and Dave, Kick-Ass and Red Mist - however you wanted to address them - the donged (or bonged, depending on how much you wanted to blame the marijuana (second-hand in Dave's case) for this) duo both closed the doors behind them, somewhat weary of any kind of witness. Whatever this little thing was, they mutually agreed with a silent nod, it did not make either of them gay. A little bi-curious perhaps, but certainly not gay... Maybe it would have been a good idea to bring a chick into this, just to gloss over any kinks, but Chris was far too possessive of Emily to share her with anyone else, and if Emily had found out that he had so much as looked at another woman, he could only guess as to how bad her reaction would be. So, it was just the pair of them... Although somehow, neither minded all that much...

Now that there was nothing to block the path to the other, there was no other excuse for ineptitude besides inexperience and naivety, which Dave Lizewski was bursting with, but thankfully for him, that was one of the largest reasons that Red Mist wanted him so badly. Since the very moment that he had had the thought of taking from Kick-Ass something that would only be missed once the truth came out, Chris knew that he would have to be the one to take charge, which was exactly what he was doing now. Thrusting himself against the length of the backseat, Red Mist had Kick-Ass pinned halfway between the seat and door.

Throwing his hand over the squirming shoulder of his unknowing victim, Chris slammed down the lock, whispering in Dave's ear, "To prevent any accidents..."

Raw, raging, and coursing unbearably throughout their veins, the anticipation was pure agony, but the very best kind of it. Gazing down at Kick-Ass with lust-filled eyes, Red Mist then realized that the scuba suit was not made for such things as quickies in the back seat (his custom-tailored costume was). That made this all the better for him...

"Turn around."

At first it seemed like a rather blunt request, but then the young hero realized that he was in his costume, so it suddenly made all kinds of sense. But it wasn't an easy task to accomplish, rotating in a cramped space with another person sitting on top of you, their junk grinding into yours as you pivoted your hips and flopped over so that your face was buried in the leather while your back was exposed to the world. It was a good thing that Kick-Ass shared a certain level of trust with Red Mist, that he could count him as something like a friend, because doing something like this with a stranger or someone that hated you was a very good way to end up stabbed in the back and left for dead. But with Red Mist, Dave didn't have to worry so much, despite not even knowing what his name was.

Unzipping his wetsuit, Chris left the mask on. Sure, that probably would have helped the scheme he was cooking up with his old man, or better yet his own sick, sadistic drive for making this boy squirm, but to unmask him now would take some of the fun out of it. So the mask was untouched.

"You have a sexy body..." It might only have been his back that Red Mist was looking at, but the curves of muscle and bone beneath his pale flesh was more than enough to get Chris excited. "I can't wait to cum all over your back..." Crap, he might have just said too much... To cover his tracks, Red Mist pressed his lips lightly to Dave's shoulder, nipping lightly.

Once more, Dave let out an involuntary moan. "Mmm-Mist...?"

"Hmm?" Rolling like an ocean wave over that back that would only grow stronger and more chiseled with time (and more scarred), Red Mist reached knowingly inside of Kick-Ass' uniform, beneath the band of his boxer-briefs, hand wrapping around his cock as if it were an extension of his own body. "Is this what you wanted?"

As he began to stroke the other hero off, Red Mist could only assume that his quivering nods were the boy's reply. Quickening his hidden gestures, Chris began to pump his still-contained emperor against Dave's rather nicely shaped ass, earning a soft groan from his own mouth after only a few passes. Using his free hand - as if there was such a thing in sex - Red Mist slipped one gloved finger inside his mouth, one at a time until three digits were gleaming more than the rest. Starting with the smallest - as much as he wanted Kick-Ass to suffer, he didn't relish the thought of explaining any unnecessary messes - the young, evil Bruce Wayne eased into the tight entrance.

Completely foreign, it took a moment for Dave to register what had just happened, the shock speeding alongside the pain like a speeding bullet to the brain. "Oww, FUCK!"

What a pussy... Chris had put his girlfriend through so much worse, and she didn't cry like some sniveling little bitch at the first signs of pain, but then again, he was fairly certain that she wasn't completely sane... But he wouldn't change his broken angel for the world. Not even for the chance to do to this fucker what he really wanted to... Although, it was a fairly close call at this point in time...

"We're not even at the fun stuff yet..." Chris couldn't hide the grin spreading from ear to ear, so he was rather glad that he didn't have to. Ready or not, he slipped the second finger inside, thinking to himself that the prick should be grateful he was being so generous as to prepare him for the main course.

Grunting as the second extremity joined the first, both wriggling in the opposite direction, Dave was less sure than ever about this, the searing pain in his ass making him think that he would never be able to sit down properly again, but he knew that changing his mind now was out of the question... Besides, after he got somewhat used to it, the pain wasn't quite that bad... Not entirely...

But nothing could have prepared him for what came next...

Skipping the third finger as spite got the better of him, Red Mist decided that if asked about it, he would just come in with the 'I've never done this before' defense, but that wouldn't only be if dipshit was of the mind to bring it up. He wasn't. Unzipping his trousers after what felt like an eternity of torture, Chris stroked himself once or twice before shoving his dick inside a hole that was, to be honest, not quite ready for it, and just like the first time, he felt no remorse for that fact. Slowly, Red Mist began to pump himself back and forth, allowing Kick-Ass the courtesy of familiarizing himself with the pace and pattern before alternating any of his rhythmic movements. It was more than he afforded Emily their first time. A lot more.

It didn't take too long for Dave to realize that while he didn't hate this, being shoved face-down into cold leather while a guy in slightly less frigid leather pinned him down and had his way with his ass, this wouldn't be something he actively sought out...

Nothing more than a quickie, it wasn't long before part of the aggravation building up inside of Chris was released - this time literally - on someone else. Pulling out just before he could cum, Red Mist did exactly as he promised he would do and let it all out, spilling his seed on Kick-Ass' back. The final splurts, he wiped off on the hero's spine, rubbing the tip of his cock across the skin. As for Dave, he came inside of his suit, all over the hand that was still whacking him off. Before extracting his hand, Chris wiped his gloved hand off on Dave's stomach, smearing Dave's own semen on the flesh. For what it was worth, the sex wasn't so bad...

It wasn't exactly private either...

The phone, so carelessly tossed aside, had allowed Emily to hear everything... Every moan... Every moment... Every thrust... Everything...

* * *

I'm not saying that either guy is gay (not that there's anything wrong with liking whoever the hell you want to ^^), but when I was looking through DeviantART, I saw a butt-ton of slash stuff, so I figured that it was fairly popular pairing (but looking through the selection of fics on this site, I'm not entirely sure about that conclusion). So, I wanted to appease the fans. I guess that fell out the window, but at least now this gives me a chance to work on something I _never_ do, so that's good. ^^ And yay, more evil Chris! I love evil Chris ^3^ ! And another find for me! Ok, so I'm watching Kick-Ass for the seven millionth time (and I've only owned it for a week by this point), and just like last time, by pure chance, I spotted yet another Chris D'Amico cameo! Again, Chris and Stu are in Atomic Comics, but this time they're seated at the booth behind/beside Dave and Katie (when she buys him the coffee and he convinces her to e-mail Kick-Ass). Oh, randomness! Seriously though, I've been watching that movie way too much. Oh, and if you are wondering, in the movie _'Get Him to the Greek'_, Russell Brand refers to his own *cough* thing *cough* as 'the emperor'. I know, what a strange place for my more modest side to come out, especially after this chapter. Oh well, such is life.

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review! Pretty please?

_"The Sex Is Good"_, by Saving Abel.

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight too.


	10. Red Kick, issue 5

[**Some Time Ago...**]

Being inside of John Genovese's office was certainly different than being in his home, and ironically they were located within the same penthouse apartment. Being his son, coming and going so long as John wasn't in the middle of business (which included his alone time with the powder), Chris wasn't as fazed by the change in atmosphere, but his demeanor was different, and she didn't have to know his every movement to see that. But that was really a two-way street, because he could feel Emily's eyes moving around as she searched for every possible exit, although out of everyone - short of himself - she was probably the safest person in that room at any given point in time. Even after all of these years, John was still rather fond of her, always pressing them to further the relationship, especially now that they were getting older and closer to moving on with their lives. But that wasn't why they were inside John Genovese's office...

Discussing the plan to capture Kick-Ass (which was ultimately bungled, but led to the identification and capture of the real culprits anyways), the trio - and Joe and a handful of other goons, including Emily's father - sat around the desk as they ironed out all of the details. Chris' plan was ingenious, and pretty perfect in that there really wasn't a lot that anyone else contributed to the main idea, but Emily knew him better than anyone else in that room, and she knew that there was more up his sleeve than what he was telling the others. But it was because she knew him so well that she had the good graces to keep her mouth shut. At least in front of the others.

"If this works, this will be one of the craziest things I've ever done for the family." Mr. Vela didn't even bother looking in his daughter's direction anymore, because she had made it rather clear where she stood, and had that not been with the son of the man that signed his paychecks, she would have been dead to him, as opposed to the living dead. "No one will dare fuck with the Genovese family again, if all goes according to plan."

"Of course it will! Chris knows what he's talking about when it comes to all this superhero shit." Joe had his back. Javier too, but he was off somewhere with his mother, acting as her personal bodyguard. Javier and John seemed to be the only two adults that had any kind of faith in either Chris or Emily...

John nodded, already rather proud of his son just for the scheme he had put together on his own, "He's his father's son."

Again, where it not for the employer/employee relationship, and the fact that the Genovese family was the most powerful mob family in the city, Mr. Vela so would have shared his mind as to what he thought that meant, as well as how he viewed Chris, and the corruption of his sweet daughter... But, as it was, he had to suffer that breathing wound in festering silence, only wishing that he could have a moment to speak to Emily in private, to ask her once more to return home... But in his heart of hearts, he knew that it would never happen, that she was lost for good...

After the meeting was adjourned, everyone filing out on their own paths and going about their business, Chris had pulled Emily aside, leading her down the hallway to his room. On the way, the couple brushed by her father, the girl hanging her head as she past him, but Chris glared him down, wrapping his arm around her neck as he lead her on, hand cupping her chest. The old man merely looked away, taking the elevator to parts unknown.

Once they were sequestered in his room once more, Emily looked passed Chris, gazing at the door, "He didn't even look at me..."

Having daddy issues of his own, he understood her pain, "He saw you." Old goat was probably just all pissy because he was there, at least one hand always on her, claiming her for his own. "He just wasn't expecting to."

As if that made it any easier for her...

"Not everyone is as understanding about premarital relations as my parents." He shrugged, looking through her bag for her sketchbook (her bag had been thrown into that demonic, unused armchair). "Now, I want you to draw my costume for me. Take your mind off things for a bit."

But she wasn't listening, caught up in the memories of so many years ago, "Your mother threw a bible at my head. I would hardly call that understanding."

Heh, that still made him laugh to this day. Sure, it wasn't funny, but if it had been anyone else, it would have been openly hilarious! "You know that my dad took the phone book so she couldn't do any serious damage."

Emily rolled her eyes, "You wanna tell that to the concussion I got?"

"The bible didn't cause the concussion - that was the lamp she broke over your head." That lamp was a fucking ugly one too, so he didn't miss it at all. And he still questioned as to why his mother even had a bible in the first place.

His concern for her was just radiating from the slouching position he took as he went through the contents of her bag, lip-gloss by Sharpie (or piece by piece, in the common vernacular). As if she was stupid enough to keep any more incriminating evidence in her book bag after what happened! "Yeah, drunk and angry don't really mix all that well, do they?"

He snorted, flipping through her used-up sketchpad, pausing on one really sensual picture of himself, "Hey, she wasn't the stupid cunt that forgot to throw away her pregnancy test at the cheapy shack she bought it from. That was all you babe."

Yeah, and she was never going to wake up from that nightmare, was she? "God, I can only imagine what everyone would have done if you actually _had_ knocked me up. And it was Knight's fault for sneaking it into my bag! I _did_ throw it away, but he kept insisting that you had to know about the false alarm-"

"What, you weren't going to ever tell me? What if I had knocked you up? How long would you have tried to keep it from me?" As if Chris would care - he just didn't like it when she tried to have a life of her own. As if she wanted one that didn't involve him!

She took the book from his hands, replacing it with her own body, arms wrapping around his neck as she spoke, "You know that I worry about you more than anything else - I just didn't want you to have to worry until I knew for certain. Was it really so wrong of me to try to protect the man I love?" Emily kissed his check, "Here, the next time I even think I might miss my next period, you'll be the first to know, even before my calendar. I'll even call you at three in the morning, when I have to go pee one extra time, just in case."

"You don't have to be a smart-ass about it. I know everyone else as made you pay already, and I'm not about to join that 'make Emily suffer for as long as we possibly can' bandwagon. I have a better way to punish you, and as luck would have it, you'll only have to suffer once." It was true that Chris had been really cool about the whole thing, so she knew that was only a matter of time before he had found some way to really stick it to her... She just didn't think she'd have to wait so long...

[**In The Present...**]

Not only did Emily have to know ahead of time what he was planning, but Chris had also made it so Emily would have to listen to the entire thing, and even worse, she was there for every second he planned out every possible scenario to kill two birds with one stone. Sure, part of her enjoyed being able to actually be of some use to Chris, but most of her hurt, cut so dangerously deep by the fact that she was actually helping him to cheat on her, wounded further by the fact that she couldn't complain once about the entire thing, because as he pointed out, she had done this to herself. Why did he always have to be right?!

Listening was so much harder to bare than she had anticipated, believing in her heart that every scripted word of their staged fights had been a small shard of glass that wedged itself deeper and deeper, killing her so slowly... He was right that she would only have to suffer once, because while everything else had caused immense agony, this one thing really did kill her on the inside...

You had to hand it to Chris though, making a preemptive strike that would only sting after everything had come to light, and by that point, Kick-Ass would be as good as dead anyways, so he wouldn't have to suffer. But Emily? She would have to live with this for the rest of her life...

* * *

That he is, that is... I wonder if they realize how much though, what with the singing... "_He's goin' in the ally_"/ "_She's going upstairs_". God, I love those parts so much... Maybe a little _too_ much... Anywho! See, I toldja that the end of 'Chris and Emily' would come to light!

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review! Pretty please?

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight too.


	11. The Real You, issue 1

As it turned out, the rest of her life really wasn't that long...

[**Skipping Ahead to the Age of Rising Heroes, Just Before The Eve of Evil... **]

Kick-Ass had managed to escape from Chris with his life, thanks to the help of that little bitch, and together they not only killed both John Genovese and Mr. Vela in a single night, but they had single-handedly drove Chris over the edge, simultaneously inspiring a fresh wave of nut-jobs in spandex. A world full of heroes, that's what they all called it, but really a world of retards would have been a much more accurate description. Seriously, how did they not expect evil to rise? Weren't the 'good-guys' supposed to believe in peace, justice, and balance? Well, it stood to reason that the darkness would ascend, for what is white without black? In order for their supposed utopia - their thriving silver age of supers - to exist, there had to be someone to counter their bullshit, to make things right, and the Mother Fucker was just the man for that job...

Too bad it would be a number of months before he was able to make his move...

Yet in his absence, the so-called heroes (who some knew better as murderers and butchers) were able to bask in their 'success', growing fat and complacent! Ok, so technically they started to train harder than ever before, just to prevent another cad like John Genovese from rising again, even at the expense of their schooling. Pft, as if hitting the books had ever been a big priority to either Mindy McCready or Dave Lizewski... But thanks to Marcus, Mindy's guardian and new father, Hit Girl at least had to pretend like that shit mattered to her, and truth be told, that charade stung worse than the dirty syringe of an uppity junkie.

So, she would go to school, smiling and cheerful, but the minute that he had driven out of sight, she booked it the hell out of that state-sanctioned madhouse. At first, she was alone, since Dave had retired Kick-Ass after the mental trauma of killing all those fuckers back at Genovese's place a couple of weeks ago, but sooner rather than later, he had begun to miss it, going crazy on the inside as he tried to go back to the boring life he knew before. So, one day, he followed after her, skipping school as he began a regimen of brutally intensive training at the hands of Mindy. Maybe it was just his imagination, but something told him that she was enjoying beating his ass like morning wood a bit too much. But more disturbing than that was the fact that he was _liking_ it. A lot.

One day, Dave had stayed over at her secret hideout a bit longer than he normally did, watching as she made two cups of hot coco, stuffed with marshmallows. One, she set underneath the picture of her father that hung on the wall, and the other she drank herself, setting the half-empty mug down on the windowsill as she grabbed an old cloth from the cabinet in the bathroom.

Coming back out, in the process of wiping away the sweat that had accumulated beneath all of her blonde hair, she noticed that Dave was still hanging around, "This isn't a peep-show, you fucking perv."

"I'm not..." He raised his palms out, defensive about his intentions, "I just remembered that there was a field trip for my class today, and Todd and Marty won't be back until later."

Looking at his hands, all beaten and bloody from how hard she had pushed him today, Mindy realized that they were beginning to bleed through his shoty bandaging job. Leaving the towel around her neck, she went over to Kick-Ass and grabbed his wrists, roughly leading him to the bathroom so she could re-bandage them herself. "You fucking suck at first aid. I hope being a male nurse wasn't high on your career list."

He was sincerely offended by that remark, pausing his unraveling job, "Don't you mean doctor?"

"You can't bullshit a bullshiter, Dave." Letting go once he was in the door, she began to rummage around for the first aid kit. She spoke at him over her shoulder, "Your pussy-like demeanor just screams male nurse. And besides, you and I both know that there's no fucking way that either of us is ever going to become a licensed anything."

Mindy had him there. "So, what was that about? Do you leave a cup there every time you come here?"

Only a fucking dumb-ass would have to wonder about what he was referring to. Head bent low as she extracted the medical supplies, Mindy set the plastic box on the edge of the counter. "Yeah, I do." Flicking the locks with her thumbs, she pulled out the bandages. Turning to Dave, Mindy grabbed his hands again, only this time she was a lot more tender about it. "Why don't you stay here and have a cup with me?"

Shocked that she would extend this kind of offer to him, Dave realized at once how major this was, "I'd love to."

"Don't go getting all sappy on me!" It might have come out all snappy and sarcastic, but she was smiling as she unwound the roll of gauze, applying it skillfully to his left hand first. Big Daddy taught her how to take lives, but he had also taught her how to save them as well, because you never knew what could happen on the field.

Finishing with the first hand, Hit Girl just continued to hold it, gazing down at the neat loop-work she had done, medical tape holding it in place. It wasn't quite broken, but his pinky was looking at little bit off. She wondered if it had always looked like that, or it had been a hazard of the lifestyle.

Noticing that she had spaced out, Dave waved his other hand in front of her face, a single droplet of his blood spilling down his flesh and landing on her pants. Gapping at the spill, he launched into a full-blown apology, "I'm so sorry-"

Snapping to, she shook her head, "It's fine, if I can't get it out, I can just tell Marcus that I started my period or something."

Well that shut him up, but more because he hadn't realized that she was old enough to be getting that monthly feminine curse, "You have periods?"

It wasn't really something she cared to discuss, especially with Dave of all people, but the way he had said that was really fucking asshole-ish, "Why wouldn't I? I am a girl, you moron!"

"I know, but I mean, aren't you still a little young for that?" And there it was. It wasn't bad enough that it was always on her mind, but now he had to go and say it, making it that much more real!

More than almost anything else, Mindy fucking hated the age gap that separated them, even now... "I'm not a child - I'm getting older every day." That's what she told herself whenever it hit her just how much older than her he was. Why did the first guy she had to develop feelings for have to be so much older than her? Fuck! "I've done more than most adults, _and_ I can kill a man with his own thumb! Age is just a number..."

Although he didn't get way she had become so flustered, Dave could see that she was sensitive about that subject, so he made a mental note to not bring it up again...

* * *

I debated about whether or not I would put out one last issue of "Red Kick", but I think that if I did, it would be all of five words, so I decided to just go ahead with the next part of the story! So, here's Kick-Ass 2! Well, if you're coming at this from a time-line perspective.

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review! Pretty please?

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight too.


	12. The Real You, issue 2

But he wanted to...

Dave said that he kinda liked getting the crap beat out of him by Mindy, that it gave him purpose (besides just wasting away on the couch, pretending to be another person), that it felt like they were driving towards something (hopefully great). All the other people putting on masks were just playing superhero - they were training to really do it! He couldn't tell his girlfriend Katie (who was probably 99% of the reason he retired in the first place), or Marty and Todd, but Dave didn't care - he and Mindy were having too much fun! And that was probably the problem...

Things with Katie were just kind of going, and even without all the secrecy and lunch-date ditches, the relationship was probably close to over. When they actually were together, it seemed like all they did was mirror things they had done at the start of their relationship, so in other words, there was absolutely zero passion, and neither could even muster the emotion to fight. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, Dave was starting to have eyes for other girls. Well, technically only one girl...

Maybe it was only the combination of endorphins and dopamine of all those hours spent pent up in close-quarters, sparring, but he noticed that Mindy was, well - for lack of a better term - a girl. He knew that she was a female, obviously, but until recently, he never really noticed her as the opposite sex. The graceful arcs of her Axe-kick, the plush curve of her lips as she barked at him to do it again, the sweet, natural smell that clung to the fine hairs at the back of her neck... Those were all things that he knew he shouldn't pay any mind to, but he just couldn't bring himself to stop; sometimes, not even thinking about the ass-kicking Big Daddy would've dished out on his skinny ass was enough to clear his head...

Mindy was always on his mind, in his blood. She was amazing! A total ass-kicker, she could hurl the quips as well as any throwing knife, she was intelligent, knew comics and almost every action movie ever made (especially if it involved kung-fu), was the definition of fearless, would throw her life on the line to protect the innocent, and was totally becoming one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. She was perfect, except for the fact that she was a minor, whereas he was not. God, why couldn't they have been the same age?

They could talk about anything else, but not this, not age. He liked her, she liked him, but unfortunately, neither one even suspected that the attraction was mutual, not even when their bodies where tossed on the padded flooring, bodies spent and mere inches away from the other, hearts pounding in their heads. There were easily five times that a move could have been made in just the first ten minutes alone, but if Dave's hand were to ever slip, Mindy would probably have his head, and if she were to blur the boundaries, not only would it be putting everything on the line, but he might take her 'instructions' the wrong way and undo weeks of training.

"Mindy!" Waving at the blonde girl hailing the cab outside of the school, Dave jogged over to her side, smiling just by being in her presence. Not entirely surly from the snide comments of the bitches in her class, she grinned when he joined her. "Hey."

Opening the door, she slid in first, watching her apprentice has he got in after her. Green was a great choice for his Kick-Ass costume, but that boy could really rock any color, as evidenced by the random assortment of t-shirts, hoodies, and coats that made up his wardrobe. _No,_ Mindy scolded herself, _business. This is pure business. _"Get plenty of sleep last night?"

Dave shook his head, mindful of the height of the vehicle as he got in, tossing his backpack on the floor next to Mindy's. Wait, when she have the time to take it off her back...? Shit, that girl really was a ninja! "Katie came over last night."

Katie Deauxma was not a topic that came up very frequently, and as of late, her name was almost nonexistent. That was a double-edged sword in Hit Girl's back. "You should just break-up with her already."

Never very fond of his girlfriend in general, Dave knew that Mindy had a legitimate reason for saying that, but he wondered if there wasn't more to it than just the distraction/weakness that she offered. "It's not that easy-"

_Slap! _Mindy struck him across the face - earning a look from the cabbie, which she returned with a glare that said 'you fucking say a word and I won't pay you another dime' - leaving nothing more than a slight stinging sensation in his cheek. She warned Dave before that if he acted like a bitch, he was going to get slapped like a bitch, and they both knew that she would not hesitate to hit him. "It _is_ that easy. You're just being a pussy, because you don't think that you'll ever get another girlfriend."

"Well I won't!" He turned to face her directly, "I mean, would_ you_ go out with me?" Crap! He could feel himself go paler, praying that by some miracle she didn't. He didn't mean it like that, although he would have liked to have heard the honest answer to that...

Of course she would! "I'm sure that there are plenty of girls that would lower their standards to your level..." She looked him over, doing her best to resist the feeling in her stomach, "Well, it's a big city, so I'm sure that there'll be someone blind, retarded, or desperate enough. Maybe..."

He rolled his eyes at her snarky reply, "Thanks."

Dammit, she didn't want him getting discouraged completely, "I'm just fucking with you! Fucking A, Dave! I thought you knew how to take a joke." Her eyes met his, "You're actually not as pathetic as you think you are. You're actually kind of incredible..."

"I am?" He laughed in disbelief, finding himself drawn closer and closer to her...

Magnets didn't have shit on the pull she was feeling in her chest at that moment, "...Yeah, you are."

And the 'Best Timing of the Year' award goes to... The Cabdriver! Pulling over a few blocks from their real destination, he cleared his throat, "That'd be twenty, even."

Moment ruined, Mindy was only half appreciative for the balding man, yanking away from Dave to fish the bills (drawn from an ATM one day after training Kick-Ass) from her pocket. Throwing them at the driver, she launched herself out of the car, glad for the solid ground as her feet hit the pavement. In silence, Dave followed after her. Not one word was exchanged until they reached the warehouse...

It was going to be a_ long_ fucking day...

* * *

So, just curious, how am I doing with this story so far? Is this story just as exciting as it first was, or did I miss the mark at some point? Was the sex scene written like shit, or was it decently put? Any little remark - one way or another - would not only help, but would be greatly appreciated! I'm not asking for a lot, am I? Maybe I am...

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight too.


	13. The Real You, issue 3

Even with that semi-awkward (only at times) sexual tension between the pair of them, these last few weeks had been incredible, but just like everything else in the world, there had to be an end, and it came so much quicker than anyone could have anticipated...

After going fishing with Dave Lizewski, Marcus had found out about what Mindy was really up to, and he made her promise that she was done with everything - Hit Girl, training, and even Dave... More than anything else, she was a woman of her word, so she quit cold turkey, although Dave wasn't so easy a habit to kick (ok, well neither was Hit Girl, since that was who Mindy had been practically since birth). It hurt more than any injury sustained on the field, but some part of her knew that it was for the best... Dave was... It just wasn't something that she should pursue.

On the other side of that coin, Dave was fairly vocal about being - as Katie had put it in her final words to him - 'dumped' by Mindy. He thought that they had had a good thing going (besides the whole wanting her thing), and her sudden refusal to work with him anymore was completely out-of-the-blue. Not to mention the fact that it fucking hurt to just hear her one day tell him that she basically didn't want to see him anymore. He asked her why she retired Hit Girl, and she told him that she had promised Marcus, going to great pains to explain in detail (via text), but when he inquired as to why she didn't even want him to text her unless it was important, she didn't really have an answer waiting for him. She just wanted to make this whole thing easier on herself, and talking to Dave would only have the opposite effect, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell him that. All she could do was apologize.

Blindsided as he was - he died a little on the inside when he lost Mindy - Dave did find one silver-lining in the situation, and that was _Justice Forever_. He had a team now, but without Hit Girl, it just wasn't the same. Not even Night Bitch could make up for the empty place left by Mindy's absence, but she did make one hell of a distraction!

Goody for him... Poor Mindy couldn't find a single thing to distract herself from Dave, and the minute that that slutty bitch Brooke showed her that '_Union J_' video, the first thought in her mind was not of the boy (or was it boys?) on the screen, but of her Robin. Great, so not only was she getting turned on like any other teenage girl, but it was to a guy that five seconds ago they were talking about her doing all manner of things with!

But as gratingly slow as their lives were going (or blurry in Dave's case), they were unable to shake themselves of the feeling that someone was missing from the picture. But still, life went on...

[**Some Short While After The Killing Of John Genovese... **]

Well, it went on for most people. After losing their fathers, Javier and Angie came back for the kids, but seeing this as the opportunity that she had been waiting for, Angie decided to take her son away, to someplace quiet; but there was a catch - Javier couldn't bring his niece. Any other time he might have agreed with sending the girl back to her mother, but the kids had both been through a traumatic experience, and they needed each other right about now, because they could relate and help each other work through this mess. He tried to fight for her, but Angie put her foot down, telling him it was not up for debate, not so long as he cared being employed. Emily told him to go, that Chris needed him more than she did.

It was the hardest decision she had ever made, but she made it for Chris...

Too bad it was just a colossal waste of time.

* * *

I swear, I wish that I could capture even half of what Dave and Mindy actually have! I can't even begin to try to describe it in person though, so fat chance that I'll do their relationship justice. At least with this I can focus on one aspect of it (maybe its just me, but Dave and Mindy are just the best pairing!) And its funny, but I think this story actually has more Katie Deauxma in it than the entire second movie! Oh, snap! I just realized that Jim Carrey is not only in _Justice Forever_, but was once in _Batman Forever_! Lol, the random things I notice! Just like when I was watching Kick-Ass 2 again, I realized that *possible spoiler alert* when Dave's working out by himself at the end of the movie, you see an updated mask that's all hard and shiny and stuff, and there are blueprints of some kind, but it ended before I could look at what they might be for. *end* Ok, so that really didn't have anything but theory in it, but since that scene's at the end (although in a place when Nada happens visually (unless you count some serious sexy)), I felt it kind to warn anyone reading this that may not have seen the movie yet. Don't get me wrong, I am so pro villain, but Ben - I'm sorry, but _Savages_ was my first Aaron Taylor-Johnson flick, so he is always going to be Ben to me - is freaking all shades of smexy! Seriously. _Red Mist_!

You know, I actually thought that a future chapter for this story (possibly the next one in fact) was going to be one of the shortest chapters I'd ever post, but somehow, I managed to write another! Well, don't worry, I don't think it's a trend - just the end of 'The Real You'. I know, only three issues! I can't help it! I love Dave and Mindy, but for the last few days now, I just haven't been able to come up with anything for them! Not at this juncture... Well, I was toying with a couple of scenes that happen later in the movie, but my first choice might change a lot in the story... Ok, fuck it, you convinced me! I'll work on an altered take of the date-ditch scene!

This is only at the bottom because I was getting ready to post this chapter when I noticed it! Finally, another review! So thank you very much ryt-'nd-Run13! And to you too, al3xand8, for answering the pleas of one author! As al3xand8 pointed out, I should indicate that the sex scene I mentioned was in '_Red Kick_'. So if you don't read/like that stuff, you don't have to wonder where it happened. Well, I think that should do it... Oh, and if you can find the time, please review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight too.


	14. The Real You, issue 4

[**Dave's POV**]

Dad was out at work tonight, yet another double-shift, and I just needed a break from the whole Kick-Ass thing (just for one night), so the lights were blacked out, and I was passed out on my bed. It was a quiet night, and even if Hit Girl couldn't be out protecting the city, I had the utmost faith in my team, so I was able to sleep with a relatively clear mind. That, and my body fucking hurt from all the abuse it had undergone, even with the metal plates and fucked-up nerve endings. But even as exhausted as my body was, Mindy had trained my mind to become more alert, so even in my sleep some burgler couldn't get the drop on me.

Stealthy even a dress and on my creaking floorboards, I could barely hear her climbing through my window, but because of who she was, there was no doubt in my mind that she had wanted me to hear, or else I never would have known she was there. Mindy really was like the real-life Miho.

"Dave?" Her voice sounded so soft, at first I wasn't even sure if I was still dreaming or not.

She sounded off through, so I immediately knew that something was wrong. Popping up, I reached for my nightstand, turning on the light while I was there, just to be sure that I really was seeing Mindy. I was right - she was crying, and looked like she had been for a good fifteen, twenty minutes. What did those cunts do to her?! Oh, God, they didn't-?!

"Oh my God, Mindy?! Shit. What are you doing here?" I wanted to know that she was ok, but I was also curious to know what would bring her here - to me of all people - especially after how she had blown me off lately. I swear, if I find out that those little whores did anything to really hurt her...!

Brave as always, she tried to laugh it off, but by the look on her face, it was obvious that she wasn't buying it herself, "I needed to see my Robin, I guess." Walking over to the bed, she sat down at the edge.

"You ok?" It was a dumb question. I don't know who moved first, but I think it was me, giving her a comforting hug.

She broke away first, shaking her head, "I don't know what to do! Those girls... They're evil."

Girls. Alright, well at least there weren't any guys involved. Mindy could handle herself if any jack-off got the wrong idea and tried to force himself on her, but if it had been a group effort... Well, girls were something that she could handle.

"It's just high school. Who gives a shit? You should be out there, in the real world - making it a better place." It probably sounded like I meant as Hit Girl, but strangely, I didn't mean it like that, not this time. Mindy was amazing, so no matter where she went or what she ultimately did with her life, I knew that it was going to be good.

"I can't..." That recalled the day that she rejected me.

And since she only wanted to see it that way, I couldn't tell her otherwise. "I know, you promised your dad. But he's not here anymore. This is your life - you've gotta life it."

The head shaking didn't seem to ever stop. "How am I supposed to face them tomorrow? I don't know if I can."

"Why?" The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them, "You're smart, you're beautiful," It was funny, because I recalled complimenting Katie first for her looks, then for her personality, and I only gave her two or three. "you're funny, you're the strongest person I've ever met, you can do anything!" She smiled at me. "And you're Hit Girl! It doesn't matter if you're wearing a mask or make-up - it's who you really are."

At least she wasn't crying anymore, so that was already an improvement. I hated seeing her cry. "So what should I do? Cut their tongues out?"

I could feel my eyes go wide, "NO! Definitely not!"

She chuckled, already going back to the Mindy McCready I knew, "I'm fucking with you."

It was my turn to smile at her, "Just beat them at their own game, by being yourself."

Her smile grew, and before I knew it, she grinning as a plan formed in her mind, "You know, I think my daddy would have told me the same thing. Thanks Dave, you're actually kind of good at this - who knows, you might even make a good dad someday."

Something told me that she wouldn't be saying that if she knew that I wanted nothing more than to pull her close into my arms and never let her go again. She would probably scream and shout at me if I hinted at half of the things running through my mind right at this moment. If I even tried, she would probably deck me... So why did I do it?

On so many levels, I was aware that what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn't stop. All I could do was watch myself from afar as I pulled her back into my arms, hugging her at first. She was clearly confused by what I was doing - hell, I didn't even know what I was doing myself - but she didn't show much resistance to the friendly gesture. As much as I wanted to take that as a good sign, it was probably just because she was still in a vulnerable place. God, what kind of a scumbag am I to take advantage of that? Mindy was my friend, for Christ's sake!

Apparently not as big a scumbag as I thought, because she was suddenly in my lap, kissing me! I don't know how far it would have went in my automatic state, but the minute that her lips were pressed against mine - tasting like suguar-coated strawberry - I was back in my own body, fumbling around inside my head as I tried to make sense of how - or better yet, why - this was happening. Was it even remotely possible that she had been wanting this the entire time?

No... No, it wasn't... This must have been a dream, because there was no way that Mindy McCready would ever want me...

[**Mindy's POV**]

I wasn't expecting it when Dave suddenly grabbed me for that last hug - proof of just how much those fucking cunts had shaken me - but it was probably just him saying goodbye, that he wanted to get some sleep. That made sense - I had woken him up in the middle of the night. Knowing Dave, that was probably _all_ it was ever going to be...

Fuck it! After what those assholes had pulled, this night couldn't get any worse, and who knows, if I was really lucky, Dave probably wouldn't even remember any of this in the morning anyways...

So, I jumped on him. That was stupid of me, given that he had more experience than I did at things like this, but I just wasn't in the mood to add any masochistic torture to my dance card, not tonight. And it wasn't like this had any bearing on the matter, but I knew that I couldn't go back home, not yet, not if I wanted to keep this from Marcus. He had enough to worry about without my bullshit.

It went without saying that I had no clue what I was doing, but Dave did, his mouth guiding mine into the proper form, his hands gliding around my waist. I'm not going to lie, there was something kind of appealing about having him take control - for once - his arms pulling us down to the bed. There was a lot of strength in his movements (as his former instructor, I was glad to see that he was keeping up with what I had started to teach him), but there was something gentle about it too, as if he were giving me the opportunity to change my mind at any second.

Either someone had spiked the air with pheromones, or Dave had been holding back feelings... Feelings for me... Tch, that was just retarded, because why would he want me? Sure, I could make him look like a total pussy (and that was without bringing Kick-Ass and Hit Girl into the picture), but I wasn't... I mean who would want me? Bad-ass only went so far... I might have given him shit for it, but Dave could probably get any girl he wanted, and after his last girlfriend, why would he move on to me?

* * *

Ok, so if any of this story could be called cannon (which obviously it can't), this chapter is probably even less so, since most of the rest of it fits in a possible, between-the-scenes kind of place, as opposed to to a flat-out rewrite. That explanation was probably pointless, but for my own sake, I had to say it. And anyways, I should say that I really loved that scene in the movie, but was super pissed off because I feel that more should have come from it than just that awkward hug. And am I the only one that wondered if the awkwardness wasn't just Dave's 'hey, back up, you're too young for me' guilt, or if it was just really awkward between the actors themselves? I dunno, I wonder these things from time to time... I've said it a couple of times now, but I'll say it again - a large part of this story is just me trying different things (like guy-on-guy and batshit OCs), and this particular chapter just so happens to be first-person. That's something I have done in the past, but it's been such a long time since I've gotten into the heads and hearts of just one character at a time.

And I say damn you, grape, for your lack of sex appeal! I wanted to say that Mindy would probably use grape flavor over strawberry lip-stuff, but it just didn't sound quite as sexy... Oh well. So what do all of you think? About the chapter, I mean. Hell, you can weigh in about the flavor thing if you want, but that's really non-issue for me. Oh, and speaking of reviews, I want to thank Kyle37 for your two reviews!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight too.


	15. The Real You, issue 5

More. In some part of the back of his mind, locked in some unlit corner with repressed childhood memories, Dave knew that this was technically wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this kind of thing with a minor, but he couldn't help the urges he felt to keep kissing her. Her lips were coated in artificial wax, but even that wasn't enough to stay the pent-up desire he had been keeping at bay all this time. He needed to taste more... He needed Mindy, and it was more than sexually - he needed her in his life, giving him purpose and direction. Sure, as Kick-Ass, he had an instinctual drive to protect, but after he had teamed up with Mindy to help her avenge her father and take down the Genovese family, he realized that it was a blind wish that would have killed him sooner rather than later. But it was more than that - Dave couldn't explain it, but he knew deep down that he needed Mindy in his life...

Responding to the way that Dave had began to back away from her, Mindy was more afraid than she had ever been in her entire life, and that was saying something, as she had faced at least four dangerous things before breakfast alone, and that was just on an average day with Big Daddy. She was afraid that this was it, that Dave would come to his senses and shove her away, that he would reject her, that things would become so forced and awkward that eventually he would drift away forever, and she would lose the one thing that seemed to be a constant in her life. Maybe it sounded crazy, but thrust from one extreme to another in such a short amount of time, Dave had been the one thing that didn't change. He cared about her, and she had the sense that no matter what happened to them in their lives, he would always care about her.

But that wasn't enough for her... She needed more than just the platonic role of an older brother right now. She needed Dave... But what could she do when he was the one that she wanted to hide from?

"Mindy," The boy was out of breath from all of the kissing they had been doing, "wait..."

Here it was, that moment she had been dreading ever since the instant she realized just how much she cared for that naive idealist... Closing her eyes to shield herself from the piercing gaze he was so intent on melting her with, there was nothing she could do to brace herself for the impact of what was going to come next. Big Daddy had taught her how to survive everything. Everything, but a broken heart...

There was so much to say to her, things that had to be said, that he wanted to say, and in the frantic haze enveloping his brain, there was no possible way to distinguish which was which. He really liked her, but could he say that to her? Should he? There was the obvious issue of their age gap - that even though no one else would understand it, he had genuine feelings for her - and of course there was the fact that her father was a cop, so that was hard enough, but to add to it, this would be her first time. What was he supposed to say to her? The truth? Fine, let's pretend for a moment that he did tell her the truth, that he was pretty sure that he was in love with her, that everyone he had been with was just killing time until he could be with her, that this might as well be his first first time too - oh yeah, that was going to go over great, especially if she didn't run from him, screaming.

Shit, he was fucked either way this ended...

Collecting what remained of his wits, Dave looked up at Mindy, seeing more than some mixed-up blonde or the most lethal superhero to ever exist - he saw a glimpse of who she really was, of his entire world, wrapped up in one petite body. In that one second alone, her eyes peeking through her lashes as she prepared herself for what she thought was going to be heartache, he knew exactly what to say next. "I don't want this to be be just for tonight."

So incredibly blue, Dave had almost forgotten just how intense her eyes could be in that five seconds she had them closed, almost. He never realized just how dangerous they were, how much their light moved him, how brilliant and beautiful they were. Blinking up at him in shock, it was almost as if he were seeing her eyes for the very first time.

"What...?" Her voice came out so softly, even she wasn't sure if that was what she said.

Again, there seemed to be no shortages of mandatory topics, from the fact that he longed to go about things the 'right' way, to the simple bases of their mutual emotions. God, how badly did he want to tell the world that he was dating the most wonderful person in the entire universe?! But he couldn't, because no one would understand it - assuming that they were involved in any way, even in something less than dating - not even Todd and Marty. Well, maybe Todd might, but there was no guarantee that he would. Fuck the fact that the entire school already had the notion that they had fucked previously. He could care less about the rumors since he was this close to graduating, but Mindy was just getting started, and he didn't want her to have to suffer through that kind of stigma. And hiding it was possible, in theory, but he was having a hard enough time trying to hide his identity as Kick-Ass from his father (who was finally beginning to catch on, although he was under the suspicion that Dave's activities were centered around drugs), so Dave could only imagine dragging her father - the cop - into this mess.

But if it meant that he could be with Mindy, Dave would have readily faced anything...

Redundant as it was, Dave repeated himself, "I don't want this to be be just for tonight."

Oh, she heard him the first time, but somehow she was still failing to grasp what he was saying. So certain that this was going to be the end, Mindy was absolutely positive that tonight was the eve of a new era, not a new beginning altogether. This had to be some kind of alternate reality...

Concerned by the fact that she was still silent, Dave brushed her cheek, "Mindy? Please, say something..."

There was still so much to discuss, that much was for certain, but for tonight, at this particular moment, Mindy didn't need to say a single word that she didn't want to say. It was only Dave, so she should have been able to speak her mind - if this had been any other situation or any other person, it would have been more than easy to - but because it was Dave, it all became so hard. For the first time in her life, she really was unable to express herself.

Doubt was running rampant in her young mind, twisting and thriving at every corner and turn, and yet, there was no doubt in either of their minds that this was the right thing to do. How could it be wrong when it felt so right? Dave made her heart beat at different pace, and more than putting her at a natural ease, he made her feel safe. Mindy never really knew what home was, but she had to guess that it was something like what Dave made her feel...

"You talk too much."

Flashing that adorable bashful smile of a girl in love (it was the smile that could make a turncoat of even the most honest man), Mindy figured that there was a time for talking and a time for action, and now was most definitely the latter. Resuming where they had left off, Mindy kissed him once more, but unlike before, each peck was chaste, filled with a certain kind of sweetness that lacked definition, and yet each kiss said a thousand words.

Like a fish needs water, he needed more... Deepening the kiss, Dave began to probe the outer shell of her lips, licking away the glossy wax. Slipping her tongue past her teeth, Mindy opened her mouth, allowing him to explore. Flicking across her lips, Dave's tongue darted this way and that, slowing down as it met with Mindy's, locking in an unseen dance. Trying to figure out which way to move her head had been kind of awkward at first, but as much as she hated to admit it, Brooke had a point - kissing Dave like this was kind of awesome.

Breaking for air, Mindy realized for the first time that they had knocked his pillow to the floor, and that his back was pressed flat against the bed. Guilty, she reached to retrieve it for him, but his grasp around her was too tight. She wasn't completely powerless against him, but even straddling him, she was at a disadvantage. And she kind of liked it. Just like in training, she wrapped her legs around his waist and flipped them over, but instead of being the one on top, she was on the bottom. Maybe if she knew what she was doing, things would be different tonight, but just this one time, it was all up to Robin to save the day...

Finding himself on top all of a sudden, he got her message loud and clear. It made him nervous though, because Dave wasn't that much more prepared for this than Mindy was. "Are you sure about this? It's not too late to change your mind." By the feeling in his pants, he knew that it was already too late for himself, but it was nothing that a cold shower couldn't fix... Or a good wank (depending on whether or not she decided to stay or leave).

Cheeks burning as the blood shifted, she nodded, embarrassed but sure. It frightened her to think about it, but she knew that she was ready for it... Ready for him...

Squirming around a little as she let herself get used to being pinned down, Mindy felt a fresh wave of panic as Dave ran his hand up the side of her body, pausing for a moment before grabbing her left breast. There was no way she possibly could have known that Night Bitch wasn't packing a whole lot in the rack department herself, since she'd never seen the cunt that Dave had previously been plugging, but her mind jumped immediately to the fact that her own chest was probably underwhelming. What if her own boobs weren't enough for Dave? Would that be a deal-breaker?!

Struggling to get in a word around his tongue, she muttered under breath, "I'm still growing..."

Confused by her lack of confidence, he shook his head, "What are you talking about? You're perfect, just the way you are."

Somehow, he had done it again. There was just no conceivable way to explain how he did it, but he managed to always find a way to lift her spirits when she needed it the most... As thanks, Mindy let out months of tension as she trust her tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

His lips tasted like sheer ecstasy...

Her kiss was sweeter than heaven...

They needed more, and they needed it now...

...Too bad they were going to have to wait.

"Dave?" Mr. Lizewski's voice broke through the barrier of heat that had accumulated since Mindy's arrival, burning through the room. They had been so into each other, neither had even heard him coming through the front door, padding softly up the stairs to his son's room.

Shit, shit, shit! How could they have been so careless? Why was he home so soon? Fuck!

Diving off the side of the bed, Mindy's skills as a ninja were put to the test as she rolled beneath the mattress, just narrowly vanishing from sight as Mr. Lizewski opened the door to check on his boy. The underside of Dave's bed was disgusting - the floor was not only dusty, but was littered with old used tissues and even a used condom. Not the wrapper, but the actually condom itself. Eww, she could even still see the filmy parts that were dried jizz. Turning her head away from that, she peered through the crack between the blanket and the floor, watching and listening.

In utter disbelief, Dave could only gape at the older man standing in his doorway, "Dad, what are you doing back from work early?"

"There was a fire a few buildings down, and the fire department ordered everyone back home while they worked. According to Charlotte -" Charlotte was a woman that worked in the office with Mr. Lizewski. "-They're going to launch a formal investigation in the morning."

A fire?! "Jesus, was anyone hurt?!"

He shook his head, "A couple of the fire-fighters were talking, and they think that it was just some kid with a box of matches. Nobody was there when the authorities arrived."

Hopefully that was all it was, but lately there had been an increase in petty crimes - thanks to that asshole on Twitter - and this was a little too close to home for comfort... Mr. Lizewski didn't seem too ruffled though, so they were probably just being paranoid by a random coincidence...

Shaking his head as he put the matter behind him (or at least until he returned to work), Dave's dad looked over at his son one last time for the night, "Well, I think I'm just going to go downstairs if you need me. Good night."

Half-heartedly, Dave waved at his father, "Night."

Departing with a final nod, he closed the door, glad to find that his son was safe in bed, not out doing something dangerous or stupid. Dave was a good boy, but lately... Well, he was worried, but not nearly as much as the two teens were about this mystery fire. It was probably nothing, just like everyone suspected, but what if it wasn't?

* * *

As much as I yearn that scene to have been altered in the movie, I really only wanted a small kiss at best (although I wouldn't have terribly minded if they had put in more). Couple that with the fact that it seems like everyone and their dog's grandma have their own versions (most of which are actually pretty damn good). So, I wanted to do something different with this! That, and this is like the third version of the chapter that I wrote (give or take minor edits at the end).

And this mini-rant came from the first draft I had. I should probably just erase it, since I was half-asleep when I wrote it, but I feel like I brought up a couple valid points. So here it is, in all of it's unedited '_glory'_: Seriously, is it just me, or did the Mother Fucker always know how to pick his targets? He shoots Hit Girl, and he rapes/beats the living fuck out of Katie/Night Bitch (or so they claimed in the second movie). I'm not condoning what he did by any means, but seriously, going after Hit Girl was both malicious and kind of genius, considering that she's his rival's real love interest. And truth be told, before I read the comics, I actually saw the picture of him going after Katie, whom I mistook for Mindy (it was the dark hair). So glad it didn't work out that way (for so so many reasons)! But if you think about it in a certain way, Night Bitch wasn't the only "uninspired" attack. Because he failed to kill Hit Girl (not his fault), and he left the other two alive (which was by choice). I dunno, I'm rambling, because I'm tired, and this is already the third time I've rewritten this damn chapter. But one last painfully obvious note? Everyone in this series is made into an orphan. Well, not technically, since either their mother is untouched or they're already adults.

And there it is! You should review! *creepy echo voice* _Review, review, review_...! Seriously, you should review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight and Charlotte too.


	16. Black Heart, issue 1

From the very first time she had seen his video on YouTube, Mindy had been enamored with the one guy with balls enough to stand-up for what he thought was right - sure, he might have gotten his ass knocked down repeatedly and without mercy, but he refused to budge, and that single-minded determination to do the right thing was the most appealing thing that she had ever seen before. When they were able to meet for the first time, it was quite the pleasant surprise for her. Basically that was it for her; As much of a pussy as he was in comparison, she was kind of glued to the idea of Kick-Ass, even if he was obviously levels below herself. Even as much as her father mocked him, she could tell that he had real potential, possibly even enough to become a better super hero than her own daddy - not that she would ever admit that out loud.

In all honesty - given her sequestered lifestyle - Mindy probably would have latched on to the first putz in pantyhose, regardless of who he was. Sure, had it been Red Mist, she would have seen through his mists of lies and kicked his ass on principle, but there was the very real possibility that they could have developed a very toxic relationship, not unlike Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle. She thanked her stars that Red Mist was someone she had met under the most horrendous of circumstances.

Dave didn't say it - well, he didn't really say anything about his time with Red Mist - but she had the suspicion that Red Mist was so totally Kick-Ass' Catwoman. Maybe not romantically (at least Mindy hoped not, seeing as they themselves were working on being a couple), but she definitely had the feeling that Dave would continue to try to save that asshole, even when it was too late, and she was worried that it would cost him his life... But she was probably just reading too many comics...

[**After A Night of Orphans Made... **]

Angie Genovese had been at a very exclusive spa in Sweden when everything went down in New York, so not only did it take days for her to even hear of her husband's death, but it took even longer for her to get back home to be with her son in this most trying time. For whatever it was worth, some part of her did care something for John, but mostly she was concerned for Chris, since he was so close to his father. And by that, Javier was the one concerned about the teenager, and his niece, since her father had also been counted amongst the dead...

"Chris...?" Emily stood in the doorway of John's old office, gazing around at the room, eyes not immediately recognizing the orange-clad, oni-like figure sitting in the chair, "What are you doing?" Seeing anyone sitting there but John was just wrong, even if it was Chris. Had Javier gotten back yet, he probably would have agreed with her.

It was next to impossible to grasp the fact that they had both lost their fathers in the same assault; that only days ago, John had been talking to her about something very important, something pertaining to his son; that she would never be able to make peace with her own father. It was so much more difficult to endure than anything else before, and since that gory night of blood, Chris had become like a monk or something, saying nothing as he was locked deep within his own head. It was so lonely, so empty in that apartment, and everywhere you turned, there was some reminder of what had been lost...

He spun around in the chair so that he was no longer facing the window, but looking at Emily, the gun barrel pointed right at her heart, "You said before that you wanted to be my side-kick... Is that offer still good?"

In everything that had happened, Emily had almost forgotten how just days ago she had begged to become Red Mist's sidekick, so she could actually see her boyfriend out in the field at work. And have more immediate sex. Red Mist had paid her a couple of visits that ended in him busting a nut, but that was after his shifts of pissing away time with Kick-Ass.

Cocking her head at the strange timing of his costumed alter ego (heroes had killed their fathers, so why in the fuck would he still want to be one?!), Emily walked across the room - making note that everything had been put back into its proper place by the cleaning crews - throwing her hands down on the desk in a dramatic manner. "Always." Smirking at him as she put everything together, Emily skirted the desk and stood by Chris' side, wrapping her hands around his shoulders, "What did you have in mind?"

"Revenge."

* * *

So first things first: Why the crap am I constantly referencing Batman throughout this story? I'm actually not a very big DC fan (that's a complicated situation right there), the universe of Kick-Ass itself is full of more than enough Dark Knight allusions, and as awesome as Batman is, he's not may favorite hero in the world. No, that's a toss-up between Mother Fucker (who is currently in the lead) and Loki. Yes, I realize that they are both villains, but I've always been drawn to the side of evil. Or anti-heroes. Anti-heroes or neutral characters are always badass! Like Deadpool! Anyways, I really don't have an answer, because that was just a rhetorical, explanatory rant. Secondly, the first part of this chapter is actually based off a conversation I had with a good friend of mine. We really have great conversations about Kick-Ass, and she hasn't even read the comics! Third, this was written days ago, around the time of '_The Real You_' 's third issue. Finally, this arc is mostly flashback, taking place before the Mother Fucker became the Mother Fucker. I'm only saying this to prevent confusion.

Remember, reviews are always welcome, no matter how nit-picky or simple! So review! Pretty please?

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight and Charlotte too.


	17. Black Heart, issue 2

It really shouldn't have came as a surprise when Angie Genovese announced that she was taking Chris, and that they were moving to Long Island, nor should it have come as a shock that she would take her security guard and staff, completely abandoning the New York apartment. It certainly wasn't very astonishing to hear that Angie had only one condition: Emily was not allowed to tag along and live with them. They both expected as much out of his mother - considering that she simply loathed her son's girlfriend - but that didn't change the fact that it sucked. Not entirely fond of the relationship himself, Javier did still support them and fought for her, but to seriously go against Angie would be to lose his job, so his hands were tied. But it was better this way, because with Javier they had someone on the inside who could help them if Chris' mom were to turn into a tyrant about the long-distance. He was also good for keeping tabs on Chris, to make sure that he wouldn't develop a wondering eye.

Of course Emily trusted Chris completely, but she wasn't quite as sure about a boy being sequestered to the confines of a house, not even allowed to go outside for some fresh air when he was pissed off; with Chris, that was a lot of the time. But the good news was that that was only to last until he was eighteen - so a handful of months - at which time he was going to train across the world, learning all the skills needed to kill Kick-Ass and that little purple eyesore with his own two hands. Emily was going to be stuck just a little while longer, until she was also an adult and free to do as she pleased, but the plan was that the night of her birthday, he was going to come back for her, and together they would seek vengeance!

At least, that had been the plan...

Sure, it was hard to have to limit themselves to the confines of video-chat, but at least they were still able to keep in contact that way. When Chris left the country to begin his own journey, Emily didn't realize that it would be with unbearably minimal ability for communication. She also failed to account for the death of her mother, which left her free to wander as a ghost, mourning the loss of both of her parents (although her mother had only died from an pneumonia and was not murdered by a so-called hero), haunting the streets of New York as she returned to live out the remainder of her sentence with her latest step-mother (that woman was completely unbearable, hence Emily's decision to return to Vermont after the death of her father). Javier wanted to take her in himself, but even without Chris, Angie still hated the girl, so it was impossible...

Realizing that he could just hire people to take his pain for him, and dish it out far better than he ever could, Chris returned to New York early, planning on visiting his father's grave before heading back for Emily. Missing the last several of her messages and ignoring the ones from home (feeling betrayed by the people that dared to call themselves his family), he had no idea that he was going to run into her at the graveyard of all places.

Wrapped up in so many different layers of black - her lower back exposed because of the cut of her shirt - he almost didn't recognize his girlfriend, since more often than not there was some kind of pop of color to her wardrobe, but she was unmistakable from behind, thanks to what he referred to as her "Emily stamp". Most would have called it a tramp stamp, but he was more spiteful than most, and she had just gone out and gotten the ink done without his input. Yeah, it was her body, but he was the one that had to look at her on a regular basis. She was just lucky that he actually liked it.

"Hey slut. How much do you charge for a handjob in a public area?" Yep, after so many months apart, that was how he greeted her.

Hearing his voice once more, everything else just kind of melted away, or at the very least was put on ice. Beaming at him as she turned around, Emily threw her arms around his neck, "Normally quite a lot stranger, but since you're so cute, I'll waive my usual fee and upgrade the package... So long as you don't tell my boyfriend. He's more dangerous than he is hot. That's saying something."

Pulling her close, he realized then just how long it had been since he had held a woman this close. "Hmm, I've missed this." Kissing her deeply, he felt around for the button on her sable skinnies, wrenching it open. "Now let me hear that sexy voice...' Slipping his hand down her pants, Chris ran his fingers over a clit a couple of times before plunging his ring finger inside of her.

She let out a rather loud moan, "Nothing can ever match up to how you make me feel..."

Grinning, he inserted his middle finger without warning, "I bet you tried."

Unable to contain herself, Emily nodded meekly, hand fighting to help him with his zipper. "Can you blame me? Knowing the touch of the almighty, could you really go on living after his departure?" She got it down, which allowed her to help him up. "I couldn't get off once without you."

Biting her lip to the point that blood was drawn, Chris smirked as he licked the scarlet dribble from her chin. "I bet that drove you insane." It would certainly explain her eagerness at fucking him in a place that was not only public but holy, or some shit like that. "Beg for it. Beg for my cock, just like the whore you are."

He didn't need to tell her twice. "I need it! I need you, I want you inside me... Chris, give me your cock - put it in my pussy! Don't make me wait anymore..."

Whimpering for him, looking like she was on the verge of a meltdown, he obliged her wish. Poking through his zipper and around his boxers, he pulled her pants down just enough, and he gave her exactly what she wanted, penetrating her on the spot. He still didn't know that she had lost her mother, that as arranged some twenty-odd years ago, she was buried right next to her ex-husband, but Chris did know that they were standing at her father's grave marker. As much as she might have hidden it by the modest, somewhat grungy way she dressed, Emily really was a nymphomaniac.

"...Mom?" Someone was coming, and from the sounds of it, they weren't alone.

Glancing over his shoulder, peeking over at the world around them for the first time, Emily saw two people coming up the path. One was a girl in light grey jeans and an olive-colored jacket, her blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail, and the other was a guy in glasses with a stripped beanie on, his hands in the outermost coat of the multiple layers he wore. They looked really close just by the way that they were acting, but there was a considerable age gap between them, so there was the chance that they were siblings. It didn't look like it to Emily, since they kept shooting each other glances that the other just barely missed, but who knows, blood wasn't enough to blind the heart, not always. Fuck, were Chris her brother, she would still be fucking him in this cemetery...

Wiggling her hips as she pulled her pants even lower, Emily quickly turned around so that it wasn't so obvious what they were doing. "We're not alone."

As if he could care right about now? Balls-deep and finding a center he hadn't felt since leaving for Asia, his mother could have been watching them for all he cared...

Walking passed the intimate couple, Dave and Mindy spared them only half a glance, hurrying by in a rushed silence. That was not only rude and disrespectful (to both the general population and the dead), it was highly inappropriate! Seriously, who the fuck fucks in a cemetery?! And in broad daylight no less! Fucking deviant perverts! Mindy had half a mind to teach them better, but she reminded herself that she was no longer Hit Girl, that she had no right to put a stop to it. There was also the fact that she was there with Dave, visiting his mother's grave on the exact half-way mark of the anniversary of his Alice Lizewki's death.

Once they were in the clear and the other duo was gone (irony running high on this day), Chris took advantage of Emily's new position and shoved her into the tombstone, taking this chance to really look at her back tattoo. It was a design of her own making; two crossing AK-47's, there was a fanged skull with horns over both guns. It would make a bad-ass logo for their team...

* * *

Is it sad that 17 chapters in, I realize that there is a pattern to the name scheme of the arcs? In my defense, patterns never were my best area in math... Ok, math was never my best area of math... Anyways, since the timeline is so screwy and I like both versions of Chris' training (although I prefer the comic), I'm tweaking it to fit in the blended world I've created. As for her tattoo, it was just something that came to me, since I was wondering where Chris had gotten the idea of the logo from. Aww, Dave took Mindy with him while visiting his mother! And in an even sweeter gesture, it wasn't even the anniversary of her death... Dammit, after making Dave into Tampon-Man in the second movie, I feel like he needs this fleeting moment of pure goodness! Yeah, I sometimes refer to Kick-Ass 2 as "_Kick-Ass 2: Tampons Needed_".

So review, and tell me what you think of those apples!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight and Charlotte too.


	18. Black Heart, issue 3

With a logo and a name for the army of villains he would amass - the Toxic Mega Cunts - Chris turned his attention to building up said army. While he interviewed people for the top ranks of his personal guard (which meant that he just sat there getting high while Javier did all of the assembling), Emily was busy at work on her own costume and persona. It had to fit to the Mother Fucker, since she was his number two, but she also wanted it to have a life of her own. She would die for Chris, but she still acknowledged the fact that as a person, she fell terribly short of having her own personality, probably landing someplace on the sex-doll side of the spectrum...

Before she had met Chris, Emily had wanted to become a psychologist, maybe even open up her own practice in New York, possibly working in a prison beforehand so she could better examine the criminal mind first hand, but somehow, that fell away somewhere down the line. Art had always been like an escape for her, but lately it felt almost like a profession (although one she wasn't paid for). She used to love mushrooms and would eat them in almost every dish she possibly could, but ever since she had stated to date Chris, she hadn't touched them once. Honestly, she couldn't even remember what her favorite color used to be...

Way back when, she would have stopped to analyze why this had been, why she had changed so much virtually overnight, but she didn't have to, because the answer was glaring - it was because of Chris. However, the reason for her transformation was not for love or an unhealthy obsession (although that was partially a factor), but out of fear. As much as she got off on being treated like shit, being raped was not a sensation she enjoyed in the slightest, so she had found ways of doing everything in her power to prevent that. Mostly it worked, but she wasn't always so lucky...

It didn't help any that she had a certain kind of weak spot for him when he would get that maniacal gleam in his eyes. Just thinking about his psychotic face could get her wet, but it was a dangerous line to walk, because when he did get that look in his eyes, there was only a certain way to handle him, and if she so much as breathed the wrong way, it could send him over the edge and into that dark place... Pitch-black, it was the same kind of place he went whenever he thought of Kick-Ass and Hit Girl, of killing them, of what they had done. It was in those deepest moments of his worst obsessions that she knew she would die.

Sure, she could have left him; gone off and found some nice guy that would have been good for her, but there was no conceivable way that any good, sane guy could understand her, not in the same way that Chris did. As fucked up as it was, they really were two halves of a whole... They were the real-life Mickey and Mallory Knox...

"Emily," Chris passed her the blunt he had been smoking, using the freedom of his free hands to shove her legs off his lap. They were on a fucking couch for fuck's sake, and yet she still found a way to make it feel like an armchair! Well, had she not been so comfortable with him, he would have known that something was wrong with her (which currently there was nothing more than usual). "My legs are falling sleep."

Doodling ideas in her sketch book - which she had tenderly set aside to take the blunt - she swung around, sitting up as she took a hit. "Sorry. I was just coming up with some ideas for my costume..."

Well, at least she was being useful... Reaching across her lap, Chris grabbed the book and looked at what she had done so far. Some of it was ok, most being mediocre at best, but there was one that really caught his eye in particular. The top was a simple corset that tied in the front and zipped up the sides, which she had paired off with leather arm-warmers that perfectly mirrored his own sleeves, and in the same vein of similarity, the picture Emily had also dawned a couple of identical buckles around her legs, except hers would cover knee-high boots and stockings that were torn-up in the top band. Bright red socks poked outside of the boots, and a simple black ribbon adorned her throat. Those were all good features, but what he took issue with was the skirt; astronomical and wispy, the layered fabric was mostly red with an additional draping of black, tying up the side, revealing her lack of underwear. The uniform belt was cocked up one side of her hip, and she wore a messy wig that had been scribbled in a dark magenta.

"What the fuck is this?" He pointed out the design. "You look like a fucking prostitute!"

Javier, sitting just feet away while he interviewed the heavy-hitters, looked over at the outburst. As much as he disagreed with their habits, they were adults now, so he couldn't stop them. He was curious to know what his niece had drawn, but on a lot of levels, he figured that it was probably better to just stay out of it.

She looked over at the paper. "I thought it was a cute idea. What's wrong with it?"

Chris looked like he was about to hit her, but he did not. "Besides the fact that you're literally putting the 'cunt' in 'Toxic Mega Cunts'?'

Giving the picture a better look, she jabbed a many ringed finger at the belt. "No, there are underwear with the costume. I just drew them higher up so you could see the way that the skirt ties up the side better. It's kinda a shitty piece, so I'm not surprised you missed that. You can't really see the little black hearts I have dangling from all the laces either."

No, he hadn't seem them, but he noticed the black heart painted across her one visible eye - the face was drawn at an angle, and the wig had side bangs - that matched her earrings. "Black Hearts? What, to match the lack of love you have for me?"

Personally, she thought that he was overreacting, since she had scrapped that idea rather quickly. That was one hazard of falling in love with a total fucking drama queen. "It was just one of my many ideas. Besides, you know I don't like running around like some whore. And as for the hearts, I just thought that it was a cute touch."

Although... It was a catchy name, and wasn't one point of wearing a costume being able to be who you weren't in your ordinary life? Chris said that it was to do what you really wanted to do, and he wasn't completely wrong about that...

Clicking into place, Emily grinned over at her boyfriend, "Mother Fucker, meet your Black Heart!"

"Black Heart, huh?" It was at least a printable name, so she had had that much going for her, and it really was fitting, scathing comments aside. "Welcome to the gang!" Shaking her hand, he frowned, "But seriously, I'm not allowing you to wear that costume."

She rolled her eyes, "It's not my costume."

But it ended up being her costume, with a few minor alterations...

* * *

Oh, _Natural Born Killers_! It was a movie that I hadn't seen before, not until a year or two ago, and the first time I watched it was actually after buying it. Best random movie purchase ever! Well, not completely random, as I had heard of it in passing, and I read about the Tarantino connection. Man, Tarantino knows his shit! Oh, and other than this once, I NEVER buy a movie without seeing it first (unless it comes in a multi-pack). Although, it's kind of funny, don't you think? How I mention _Kill Bill_ awhile back (which was mentioned on the case of the first Kick-Ass), and now I bring up Tarantino again, who wrote _Natural Born Killers_, which was directed by Oliver Stone, who directed _Savages_, my first Aaron Taylor-Johnson flick. Full circle much? I think so. Anyways, getting back on topic, I wrote this chapter mostly because I recognize that Emily is rather flat, but she was kinda meant to be (although not as much as I think she came out).

Epic Fail! When I started this fic, I had drawn out a picture of the pair of them together, and I just realized that I have a major typo in the picture! Seriously, I went back in and outlined the picture, adding color after that, and I just now see it when I look back! Fuck biscuits!

Don't let this story became an epic fail! Review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight and Charlotte too.


	19. Black Heart, issue 4

Black Heart had a good run, at first. She got along with a majority of the crew - except for one guy that would repetitively hit on her, even after finding out what her role in all of this was, and this one other bitch - wasn't completely loathed by those in the core group (there was a slight disagreement with The Tumor about some of the food in the refrigerator), and she was enjoying the perks of being able to fuck her rather handsy boss. Sure, the pants that Chris had picked out for her costume were rather annoying (cute as she found them, if they were any tighter, she would have to change her name to something pertaining to x-rays, internal injuries, gynecologists, ass, or vagina jokes), but that was originally the only set back she had. Too bad it didn't stay that simple...

[**The Toxic Mega Cunt Incident...**]

Emily had said many times before in the past that she would die for Chris, but she never really touched upon the issue of _killing_ for Chris...

Gathered as one whole unit in their new base of operations - well, the handful of members that had already been selected to join (they were still in the recruiting process, mind) - The Mother Fucker addressed the group at large, standing in front of an empty shark tank (the shark would be coming in later). Amped up from the buzz of this in general, a lot of the people present didn't really know what to expect out of this, out of the Mother Fucker. Even Black Heart wasn't aware of what was up his sleeve for this meeting...

Off to the side, the DJ put on a special track just for the Mother Fucker. It was "_Cold_", by Static-X, sans the lyrics. "What's up, bitches?!" Say what you will about him, but the Mother Fucker certainly had a great stage presence that had nothing to do with the cape. "Welcome to the Toxic Mega Cunts! From now, this will be our base while we plot and do what all murderers, gunners, assassins, and psychopaths do!"

There was a scoff from the audience. Looking around, all eyes fell upon a dick in a kilt and a piano-key neck tie, his eyes falling on the man in the middle of the stage, flashing over the serious-looking mothers that were flanking either side. "This place doesn't look so cool..."

Oh, he was livid at being interrupted - everyone that knew him could see that - but the Mother Fucker acted more amused than anything else, "No, you're right. It's true that we're still in the middle of renovations, but once this place is finished, it it will be the ultimate lair."

That same asshole wasn't going to be silenced so easily. "More like the ultimate lame. Who the fuck came up with the designs for this shit-heap?"

Beckoned over, Black Heart stepped onto the stage, standing next to the Mother Fucker, hands on her hips, "That would be a joint effort, between myself and our most divine leader, fuck-face. Who the fuck died and made you '_Queen of Interior Design_', especially dressed like that?!"

"And who the fuck are you? Tart number one? 'Cause baby, you could do a lot better." He had been hitting on her since he had arrived, but not in front of the Mother Fucker (who had been busy overseeing something else entirely while she greeted and thanked every person individually for joining the cause).

Swapping looks of 'should I do the honors?', Mother Fucker allowed Black Heart to deal with this one. She was only too glad. "So glad you asked - I'm Black Heart, Mother Fucker's side-kick and second-in-command. Trust me, you asswipe - and this goes for all the rest of you cunts as well -" She looked out at the crowd for the first time, "You fuck with me or the Mother Fucker, and I will end you!"

"Please," There was another interruption, but this time it was from a girl in a red and black sweater and goggles. "You jus' some floozy. Why should any o' us be afraid o' some cock-sucking whore?"

Holding her hand out, Black Heart glanced over at the Mother Fucker, "May I?" Smirking, thinking that this couldn't have gone any better than if he had planned it, he loaned her one of his father's old guns. Taking it, she kissed the barrel, "Always looking out for us." Pointing it at the woman, she shot her in the head, killing her instantly. A bunch of people probably just shit themselves, especially the ones closest to to offender that were now wearing her blood, but they were too afraid to move (and only a couple screamed or cried), thinking that she would shoot again, once more without warning. Speaking so everyone could hear her, Black Heart stared them all down, "Because I killed for this man long before we donned our masks, and I won't hesitate to do it again."

This really wasn't the first time that it had happened, but this was the first time there was a room full of witnesses...

"This is serious shit we're getting into, and if you have a problem with that," Black Heart shot the guy that had started this entire thing, only she nabbed him in the chest, watching mirthfully as he fell to the floor in a puddle of his own blood and suffered the remaining seconds of his life. "You can take it up with our complaint department." Jumping from the platform, she walked out into the crowd, pleased as they flinched away from her. Grabbing the guy by the hair, jerking his head up by the roots so that he was looking into her eyes, she concluded her speech, "So now that you know that we mean business, we should get along just fine. So long as you remember these two things: Don't EVER disrespect the Mother Fucker in any way, and if you so much as look at him in a sexual way," Black Heart raised her voice, half in homage to O-Ren Ishii, and half out of pure jealousy. "I will fucking blow your brains out all over the fucking place! Just like that cunt over there!" She shot the corpse, sending up a fresh splatter of her blood.

Turning the gun back at the asshole, Black Heart didn't hesitate to pull the trigger, blasting him point-blank in the face, his blood and one brain-cell getting everywhere, but she didn't care, because she had already dealt with this kind of scare in the past. No one was going to fuck with her man (besides that whole ordeal with Kick-Ass), not a fucking one! John had gotten her off the hook back then, and now knowing that Vic Gigante was on the Genovese payroll, Emily was positive that she had no needed to panic. Chris was confident in the very same.

Javier had known about her shooting that girl from her school back she she had first started to date Chris, but he didn't think that his niece was the kind of girl that would go out of her way to kill someone that had barely done a thing! That one girl had gone out of her way to make Emily's life hell, so not very many were shocked by what she had done, especially when it came to light that she had tried to sleep with Chris just to spite Emily. But this?! Jesus, that girl was more damaged than he knew... Harsh as it might have sounded, he was glad that her folks were dead, so they didn't have to see (or hear about on the news) what she had become...

[**The Tumor Scuffle...**]

Back before they had acquired their lair, the Toxic Mega Cunts had taken up residence in one of the old Genovese apartments. It was a nice pad, but to squeeze in seven people was, well, cramped. And since they were all strangers to each other at this point, there was a lot of distrust, which lead to a lot of labels. Especially on food. Food wasn't scarce, but it was almost sacred, and not a one was very willing to share, not even the couple that shared a bed. Yeah, that was fun for Javier (who had since transfered his services primarily to Chris). Four rooms down, and he could _still_ hear them! And that was only when they had been considerate enough to remember that they weren't the only ones living in the apartment...

But this was about food. A sandwich, in fact, made by and for one person in particular - Emily. She had frequently been designated as the sandwich-maker of the team, since she wasn't very useful on an average day, which she acknowledged. That was nice of her, wasn't it? To make everyone else lunch while they plotted the course of action to take against _Justice Forever_ (fucking pussies). True, the sandwich lady was more often than not taken for granted, but the Toxic Mega Cunts wouldn't do that to her. Never!

Pft, that's what she gets for thinking! Emily really should have seen it coming - seriously, they were all super-villains for fuck's sake - and yet, she was completely blinded-sided by this betrayal!

Preparing thirteen sandwiches, two each and one special for herself, Emily had gone out of her way to make each one just the way that the team preferred (which took a couple tries to figure out). Handing them out to everyone, Emily started with her uncle's first.

"Francesinha. Here you are, uncle Javi." She handed him the sandwich, giving his shoulder a grateful pat.

Nodding up at her, he took the food with a return pat, "Such a good girl, looking after family."

Having a rather heavy platter, she couldn't linger, but she did thank him for the compliment, "It's only right after how hard you've worked for us." She handed Genghis Carnage his, "Leberkäse, without mustard. And for you," Emily shifted a little to the left, giving Black Death his, "a Cuban sandwich, with extra pickles. Pljeskavica, for Mother Russia." There was something about the Russian woman that frightened Emily, and even though she couldn't quite put her finger on it, she knew that it had nothing to do with her stature or reputation. "Primanti." Emily handed the Tumor his, saving Chris for last. He wasn't super busy at the moment, unless you counted shooting down the other's ideas. "Tramezzino, for my love."

As thanks, Chris took the sandwich, giving her ass a rather nice squeeze as she went to go set the platter down so she could join him. Javier tried to pretend that he saw and heard nothing coming from the far side of the room. Jumping, Emily set the platter down on the coffee table, where she could always grab it later. Getting rather distracted, she didn't see the sandwich being snaked...

Maybe five minutes later, she went to reach for he food, only to find that it was missing...

"Who the fuck took my sandwich?!" She glared around the room, face falling into panic-mode when she came around to Mother Russia. If she had taken it, this was going to die rather quick, but if was anyone else...

But they were all perplexed, as they had been given their food and had not really acknowledged her as they took it. Except for the guilty party. Shrugging as he didn't see what the big deal was, the Tumor took credit. "What, you mean that extra on the coffee table? I thought that was just free eats."

The hell! If she had made extra, she would have told them she made extra, and there would have been more than one left over. "Fat-ass! What kind of a retard only makes one spare?!"

Oh, if she wasn't banging Chris, she would be so fucking dead!

Chris just rolled his eyes at her dramatics, "Just make yourself another sandwich. It's not a big deal."

Not a big deal?! It was the principle of the matter! "...Fine. But mark me, the next one of you who takes my sandwich will find their next meal tastes a little more toxic than it should..." She stalked off to the kitchen, making one last promise, "I will never make you another sandwich again, you misbegotten little lump!"

And she didn't! It wasn't exactly a 'hide the weapons' relationship, but ever since this, Black Heart and the Tumor never really did see eye-to-eye on much...

* * *

I thank Wikipedia for their lists of sandwiches, which also allowed me to break the stero- er... "archetypes" of the Toxic Mega Cunts. Such a cute moment in the movie... In my opinion.

Nope, not a lot more to say, except to ask of you to review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight and Charlotte too.


	20. Black Heart, issue 5

But that was only the start of the bad news...

While the Mother Fucker was out supporting all kinds of horrendous villainy, from petty fires caused by his nameless soldiers to killing that traitor Sal Bertolinni and raping that stupid cow, Black Heart was back at the lair, directing the various crews into shaping the place up. It was a hard job, strictly because there were just so many people to yell at. And lonely. It just wasn't the same being the one doing all of the yelling... She always knew that the top was a lonesome place, but never in her wildest dreams would Black Heart ever have guessed that the place under it was just as hollow...

Taxing as it was tedious, someone had to do all of the boring crap, and being so high in the chain of command, it was only natural that it would fall on her shoulders. But she didn't mind, because it kept her plenty busy. Too busy to worry about her personal life... And yet, as busy as she was, it somehow seemed to magnify every crack in her heart...

_The world is cruel, the world is wicked. It's I alone whom you can trust in this whole city. I am your only friend. I who keep you, teach you, dress you-_ Her cellphone began to ring with the Alan Menken tune chosen especially for her dear friend. Sighing, she grabbed the device from her over-sized boots, hiding in a corner so she could talk in private. "Knight. What are up to, calling me? You know that I'm..." She trailed off, gazing sideways at the gigantic tank being measured for fish decor. "at work."

Knight had no idea what that meant, since he had moved out to LA a year ago to pursue his dream of becoming a big-name actor. He assumed it had something to do with her boyfriend, since the last time he had checked, they were a couple of lazy potheads. "Mr. Possessive actually allows you out of the house? Color me impressed."

"He's not... I can do what I want!" She used to having these conversations with Knight. Too used to it.

He snorted, "Ok, Loki." Fucking memes. "So, since you're allowed to see the light of day without your master's permission, how about you come see me?"

"I can leave the house when I want - I can't fly out to LA on a whim, even if it is for you." The villainess told him flatly, softening her tone so he would know that it wasn't personal. "But I do miss you."

"Don't have to." It sounded like he was sticking his tongue out at her, and knowing him, he probably was. "I'm coming back to New York tonight - I got my first big gig."

It was her turn to snort, "Irony much?"

"Yeah, yeah, you can be a smart-ass bitch all you want, or you can come pick me up from the airport in ten, and we can hang out for a while. Unless you have to be back in before all the fun people come out to play." Knight still wasn't Chris' biggest fan, but he acknowledged the fact that he was stuck with him so long as he was going to be friends with Emily. They had been friends for years, and he wasn't prepared to throw that away for some guy.

She looked down at her costume. "Ten? I have to change first, but I can do fifteen."

"Fine," Knight sighed with great emphasis, acting as if she had suggested the most unappealing thing in the world for him. "But if I'm swept off my feet by Mr. Right before you can collect me, just know that its your own fault you lost me..."

Chuckling, Black Heart began to scribble down instructions for the drones, taping the old take-out receipt she used for paper on one of the stripper-poles (the paper was one she had found littering the floor, while the pen had been at the bar). "Yeah, and who might be so blind as to steal you away? That one imaginary fan I have yet to meet?"

"Hush your mouth! You know that Clancy's shy!" He tried to sound seriously indignant at her light-hearted jab, but it was hard when he knew that he was going to be seeing his best friend again, mind already buzzing with various chatter and juicy bits of gossip to share. "So unshackle yourself from the kitchen and hurry up!"

Sure, you can't hear a nod over the phone, but you can still sense an eye-roll, especially if you know the person well enough, which considering Knight had bought Emily many a feminine product in the past, it was safe to call an understatement of epic proportions. "Right... I'll just go get that key and be off to find some curtains to make myself a dress, provided that my animal friends are able to distract the wicked villain long enough for me to sing my ballad of healing and love."

"Just be here, bitch!" He said with love.

With a final giggle, Black Heart said her farewells to the handful of goons skulking the halls and was off to grab a fresh change of clothes, calling her boyfriend to leave him a message while he worked. She had no idea how long she'd be gone (she supposed quite a while though), so it was only right that as his partner, she would tell him she had plans. Would he understand? Probably not, but this was one of those 'better to ask forgiveness than permission' kind of things. Besides, it wasn't like anything was going to happen...

Not yet...

[**About Fifteen Minutes Later...**]

Traffic sucked, but it gave Emily the time she needed to be dressed in ordinary clothes and ready to hang out with her friend. It wasn't her best look to date, but a striped hoodie (the pull-over variety) and the world's most shredded pair of jeans was better than her Black Heart costume. More comfortable too. Knight had more than enough to give her shit for, so he didn't need any extra ammo...

Holding up a glittery, neon pink poster board sign that read 'late slave-friend' (garnering several dirty looks from the various passersby), Knight was already waiting outside the airport, his bags stacked by his side. He ran up and grabbed Emily in a back-popping hug as the chauffeur handled his luggage. "Em! And you brought Alfred to take me to my hotel!"

The older gentleman wasn't happy about how he was identified by the young man, but he was more than used to it by this point in his career. Emily gave him an apologetic smile over her friend's head, since that was where her family had started out before rising to the top ranks. "Jesus, put me down before you snap me in half!"

Knight had gotten stronger since they had last seen each other. Grinning, he carried her to the car, setting her down on the edge of the seat, allowing her to scoot in herself. "You wish!" He slid in himself, never tired of her boyfriend's wealth, "So, marry into his money yet?"

Situating herself so she was looking at her friend, one leg tucked beneath her body, Emily shook her head as she chided him, "You know that I don't care about his money."

"I know that. What I don't know is how you'd be so so cool with going back to the life of the boring and poor after all this luxury - I know I'd miss it like hell, and I'm only in it for five seconds at a time!" He looked sideways at her, considering the way she was holding herself, wondering to himself if she was happy with her situation. "But seriously, you two have been together forever now. Do you think that your ever going to get hitched?"

Leave it to Knight to get to the serious stuff after all of five seconds. "I don't know... I can't see my life without him, but even still, I just don't know what I see..." Looking back at when they had first gotten together, she certainly wouldn't have expected them to be super-villains today. "We don't talk about that."

Truth be told, they really weren't talking about a lot lately, not unless it somehow involved the Toxic Mega Cunts or killing Kick-Ass. Chris was obsessed. It was even starting to get to the point where it was ALL he ever thought about, and that was a problem for her. Of course she wanted revenge on them for killing her father, and John, whom she also viewed as a father-figure, but not so much that it was all that consumed her. She wanted her boyfriend back, even for five seconds...

Lost to the intimate details of the situation, Knight still knew that she was hurting over the loss of her family, that it was a wound that was only getting bigger by the day as more and more people she loved vanished forever, and he was worried that it was going to really cost her if Chris had gone too. "You should. I worry about you Em, and if you can't tell me what's up, then you really should tell him what's bothering you. If I can pick it up this fast, he should already know that there's something..."

Fuck, Knight was right! He _should_ have known that was she unhappy, that there was a wedge... He should have seen it even before she had, before it could grow into this glass wall that divided them... She didn't have to be the number one priority on his list, but she still should be on it...

Dwelling on that conversation for the remainder of the night, it was obvious that she wasn't herself...

[**Later That Night...**]

Returning home, The Mother Fucker's hot pocket was on autopilot, aware of what was happening around her but unable to respond, as if it mattered. Chris was so wrapped up in what he had done with the team that day that he hadn't even gotten her message until they were sitting on the couch after dinner, cuddled up while they watched tv, where he took her frozen demeanor as simply being tired, so he didn't even bother going into the details of what she had done. He really didn't care about her at all, did he...? And if he didn't care now, had he ever truly cared before?

Turning in early that night since he had "a lot to look out for" in the morning, he merely suggested that she do the same, naturally saying it in as rude a way as he possibly could. She just kind of blinked at him. Maybe thirty minutes after he went to sleep, Emily went into the kitchen. Once in there, she went straight for the cutlery, grabbing the sharpest knife that they owned, and once it was in her hand, she carried it to the bathroom. Not the guest bathroom, but their master bath, where he would find her in the morning...

Setting the knife of the counter, Emily looked at her own reflection in the mirror, wondering if she had had this feature or that, would he have really loved her? Was it because she was part Latina? Was it his mother? Or was the entirety of their relationship based upon the thought that this was his only chance at not dying alone? So many things ran through her mind, mostly terrible 'what-ifs', but one thing kept coming back to her...

Digging through the counter, she pulled out a tube of her lip gloss (the darkest color she could find), and uncapped it, writing on the mirror a short message. It was probably a cliché, but at least she could say that she had left her final message in the darkness, where she was going.

_I'm sorry I was such a disappointment..._

_You never loved me, I can see that now._

_I don't hate you, but this is your fault._

Satisfied as much as anyone can be with a suicide note, Emily dropped her make-up back in the drawer. "Good bye, Chris..."

Standing over the sink, she took the blade to her left wrist, cutting a deep gash. She was pretty sure that she had gotten an arty, because she was already feeling woozy... Falling to her knees, Emily slipped down the counter, fairly certain that she was getting her blood everywhere. She felt bad for the maid, but it was too late now... Her head hit the floor, bouncing off the marble.

Shit, she never told him...

Everything was starting to get darker, but she had to hold on for just a moment longer. She had to tell him... Using her own blood as ink, Emily wrote one last message, and then everything was black...

* * *

Yeah, meant to say it last time, but I forgot... Emily's really crazy. Like, really crazy. And what moment with Javier wasn't great? Seriously. Props if you recognize the song used for the ring tone. I tried to refrain from that line about the 'hot pocket', but more than looping in my mind, it's in my blood... Ok, maybe not, but it is stuck in my head. And I know, this chapter really went back to that dark place...

So, what do you think her final message was? Thoughts, anyone? Reviews please!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight and Charlotte too.


	21. Kiss or Kill, issue 1

Black Heart was one of the bad guys, so why was she finding herself second guessing everything that she had always wanted? Even as a small girl, she had been enamored with the villains on tv and in the movies, and now as an adult, she was on the arm of the single-most vile soul in all of New York, if not the world, so shouldn't be happier? But if she were happy, even a little, she wouldn't be waking up in the hospital, a bandage around her arm and a file that claimed she was a danger to herself.

Looking around at the room, moderate and private only because of who she was dating, the villainess frowned over at the empty chair by her bedside. Bleak as the horizon spread before the broken, the entire room was a repetitive theme of staleness and dismay. Sighing, she wondered why she had been stupid enough to think for even a moment that the Mother Fucker would actually put a pause on his schemes to at least make sure that she was alive. The sidekick supposed that that was the biggest problem with dating a sociopath bent on revenge and pure chaos - she would never be a first priority. Not even once...

The sad thing was, she just wanted to be a priority, even if it was his very last one. At least if she had died, in some way, it would have given her what she had wanted, but since she had lived, Emily was never going to see that wish come true... In so many ways, Emily felt just like the fly buzzing over the shaded lamp, trying so hard to get to the light inside, not knowing until it was too late that the minute that the light came into contact with its skin that it was going to die. Just like the light warms but can't feel, Chris was ignorant of Emily's efforts, of her suffering. He was inanimate...

Rolling over on her side, Black Heart turned her back to the doorway, to the large, costumed goon placed on her protection detail (so now everyone in the Toxic Mega Cunts knew of her weakness), to the loud rolling of passing carts and patients, to the light shining by the door. To hope.

[**Meanwhile...**]

Rolling up to the middle of suburbia in a skin-tight leather outfit in broad daylight - not to mention being surrounded by a group of others in the same kind of grab - was definitely a rush of adrenaline. But then again, that could have been more to do with the plan than being seen by a group of kids and some old fucker mowing his lawn. It was simply really - go in, kill any unnecessary witnesses, and make that cunt pay. Were they expecting to gun down children before offing the geezer? Not at all. Did they care? Not in the slightest.

"Are you sure she's on their team?" The Tumor inquired of his boss.

"The stupid gash posted on her superhero page that she's dating Kick-Ass, so yeah, I'm damn sure." The Mother Fucker glanced down the formation at the man that had addressed him

"But which one is it?" He pressed on, throwing a long glance at all the neat little rows of houses, each one more identical than the last.

"It's hard to say. All these fucking houses look the same." Chris was getting more and more agitated by the second. He had the directions and the exact house number printed out, but if these assholes couldn't even look for the one they needed, what the fuck was he paying them for?! Being the genius that he was, he thought to ask the brats for directions, since they would likely know. "Hey! You guys know where Miranda Swedlow lives?"

One of them pointed at a house over from where they stood, "Sure. Miranda is in that house over there!"

"Are you guys superheroes?" Another one of the four children inquired, which made sense it seemed like everyone in costume these days was a 'hero', but Chris didn't care enough to even bother to pay attention which of the runts had spoken.

It was The Tumor who replied first, "Not exactly."

"Is Miranda a superhero?"

"No, son. She just fucks superheroes." Well, technically she was a part of the _Justice Forever_ team, but he figured that her role was probably more of the team slut than an actual participating member. Crossing his arms so he could reach for his guns, Chris went on to explain, "That's why we're going to hurt her..."

They didn't stand a chance... The Mother Fucker mowed them down mercilessly while the rest of his team watched. Some of them genuinely were shocked by his actions, but Mother Russia merely stood there, looking kind of bored if anything, but she knew that it was only a matter of time before she would start working to earn her paycheck, so she figured that he could have his fun. Although, the thought of what his girlfriend might say if she had seen this crossed her mind. That girl had proven herself to be just as crazy as her boyfriend, but Mother Russia could still see that there was something soft inside of her...

"Holy-!" Black Death was easily the most shaken.

The Mother Fucker simply shrugged as he reloaded, "Oh, come on. So _i_Carly loses a few viewers? Give me a fucking break!" Aware that the old man had jumped off his mower and was in the middle of trying to flee, Chris shot him through the back of the head, redecorating the side of his home across the street. "Now tear this place apart while I go find his whore. Do what you like 'til I say you can stop."

It was Black Death to give the affirmative, "Roger that, boss-man."

Hearing all of the gunshots, the residents all began to run out of their homes (well, most of them, but a certain red-head wasn't budging from her place just yet from what they could tell), and each one was dealt with accordingly. Marching up to the front door while The tumor stood at his back, the Mother Fucker shouted up as he strode over to her house, "You hear that Miranda? We're coming to get you, sweetheart!"

But she didn't hear any of it, because as luck would have it, she was watching TV on her laptop, ear buds plugged in so she didn't hear a thing going on outside. Not until her front door broke, and a man in a mask was helping himself inside. Ripping her earphones out, she tried to race to her room so she could maybe buy enough time to call the police. Being Night Bitch had prepared her for quite a lot, but she was no match for more than one guy with a gun.

"Hello, Night Bitch!" The Mother Fucker walked in, following her casually as she darted for the staircase. "She wants to take the party upstairs!" He started to sing, "We're gonna have a party!" Miranda just barely made it to her room, slamming the door shut between them. "She closed the door!"

Once more drawing his guns, he shot at the door. Hiding around the corner, half-way in her closest, she was glad that she hadn't taken the time to try to lock or barricade the door, because he could have shot her head off. It wasn't long before he had kicked down the door.

"Don't worry, darling," He had stopped singing and was back to using his normal voice, "I'm not going to kill you - I want to send a message to your boyfriend, Miranda! Let Kick-Ass know that he never should have pissed on my lawn!"

Lashing out because she wasn't completely defenseless, Night Bitch got him right in the face, "I'm not even with Kick-Ass anymore! He moved on." Shit, she really shouldn't have let that slip... Kick-Ass was a thing, for about a minute, but the way that she understood it, he had a girlfriend now, so they had stopped their late-night rendezvous. Yeah, she kinda did like him, but to be realistic, they were really heroes as much as they were really dating. And anyways, he seemed happy, so that was all that really mattered.

Wiping away some of the blood from his face while the Tumor grabbed her from behind, The Mother Fucker licked the blood from his gloved hand, smirking as he did so. Sadistic, he was getting that gleam in his eye... Getting her back, he decked her in the face, "Shut the fuck up!" Yanking his zipper down, he licked the corner of his lip as he addressed her, "You're done banging superheroes, baby..." He grinned the most evil grin as he imagined what he was going to do to her. "...It's time to see what evil dick feels like."

The fear in her eyes was very real as he prepared to penetrate her, almost like... _Emily. _Fuck it all, why should he be thinking of her now, at a time like this?! He needed to think of things to make him hard so he could teach this tart a lesson, but right now all his girlfriend made him think of was that scene in the bathroom...

_Drinking a wee bit more that night than he normally did, Chris found himself having to wake up in the middle of the night to take a leak, but it was strange when he got out of bed, because he realized that something was missing - Emily. Where the fuck was she?! Fuck, he didn't have time to wonder... Running straight into the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the light, he relieved himself. He had thought he stepped in something wet, but that was probably just his bladder failing him. Going to the sink, washing his hands off, he noticed that the mirror was blurry, so he finally got around to turning on the lights._

_"The fuck...?" He read the message two times before his eyes registered the light, scanning it another five before it sunk in what she had written._

_Wait... If this was here, then where was she...? Looking around, he saw that her shit was still everywhere, so she didn't leave, but then where was she? Tired eyes still trying to wake up, he looked at the counter again, realizing for the first time that there was blood everywhere. Legitimately scared, Chris tried to back up, but stumbled when he bumped into something that shouldn't have been there. Terrified of what he was going to find, he chanced it and saw that it was Emily, her hand still slick with the blood of a half-finished heart..._

_"Emily?!" He fell to his knees, trying to get her to wake up. She wouldn't move. "This isn't funny..." She wasn't breathing. "Emily, get your ass up!" He tried shaking her shoulders to get her to stir, but all that was happening was he was getting himself covered in her blood. "You can't leave me too... You promised."_

_ Screaming out, a maid finally came, and upon seeing the boy frantically cradling the girl in his arms, called 911. He stayed up all night and well into the morning, panicking the entire time she was unconscious, not leaving her side for an instant. When the team came to get him that afternoon for the attack on Miranda Swedlow, he almost didn't go._

_But then he remembered the message she had left for him on the bathroom floor..._

Even now, he failed to see how she could blame him and still say that she would always love him. It was completely mental! Even for her! Fuck, thanks to her, he couldn't even manage to get it up... Stupid mother fucking cunt... Out of everyone in the world, why did he have to love her?!

"Shit!" What must this look like to his men...?

Trying to pump himself up with his back to everyone else, Chris could hear The Tumor over his shoulder, "What are you doing?! Come on!"

Fucking A', the minute that Emily gets out of the hospital with a clean bill of health, she was so going to pay for this... "Yeah, ok! I'm just..." He pinched the bridge of his nose as he snapped, "I'm not in the mood!"

Sassy, she remarked, "I guess evil dick feels limp."

So incredibly pissed beyond words, The Mother Fucker turned towards them, issuing a new set of orders, "Hurt her! Bad."

[**Back At The Hospital...**]

Drowning internally, the forlorn patient didn't immediately hear the doctor entering the room, some doe-eyed nurse in tow, eager to learn her job. "Now, miss Vela, I hear that you where found by your boyfriend in your home late last night? Where is he now?"

Where indeed? "...Busy, I guess."

The nurse frowned at her blatant bitterness, troubled to hear that, but the doctor was more vetted than to take concern in the lives of his charges. "I see." He scanned her files once more, checking that everything was in order. "We're obligated to keep you on for another day or so, just to be sure that you aren't going to try to hurt yourself again. We wouldn't want that-"

"Good one, doc." She let out a laugh that sounded more like a bark, "I'm sure that you personally care so much for every suicidal psycho that strays in here."

Honestly, after thirty years, he really didn't care at all about the problems of all these whining adolescents, but he wasn't so hardened as to not care about anything at all, not just yet. "No, not really - I think you're all just a bunch of babies and attention seekers, but you can bet I mind it when some daddy's girl goes off the handle and puts more than one life on the line."

She had never had a doctor talk to her like that, especially not knowing her situation in the slightest, "You don't know-"

He rolled his wrinkled eyes, handing the wide-eyed nurse the charts so he could check on Emily's vitals, "Oh, wah, I'm too fat, I'm ugly, my boyfriend's cheating on me. It's always the same story with you girls. I hate to break it to you, but way back in the day, when your grandparents were sucking their first teat, people were facing the same problems you kids are today, and you don't see the suicide rate being as high then as it is today."

The nurse looked at him in shock, "Doctor!"

He waved her off, "Yeah, I know. 'That's no way to treat your patients'. I hear it all the damn time from that upstart..." He trailed off, referring back to Emily's chart, "Normally I would put you on a mild antidepressant, but I think you're a hazard enough, so instead I'm just going to recommend that you get started on a prenatal vitamin regiment, and slow down on all your boozing and drugs."

Ok, she was nothing compared to Chris when it came to that shit! "I don't-"

"Yeah, of course not. But your blood work says otherwise, so as your doctor, I would recommend slowing down on all that partying and getting plenty of rest. You're both going to be grateful for that advice in the long-run, believe me that, missy."

And she was the one on drugs? "What do you mean the both of us?"

The doctor and nurse exchanged glances. After a slight pause, the nurse spoke up for the first time, "You're pregnant. Didn't you know?"

[**Miranda's Bedroom...**]

Beaten beyond the point of recognition, her lip was not only busted and swelling uncontrollably, there was a gash over her left eye. More fucked up than any big lug in a violent action movie, Miranda looked worse than her sister did after her body had been pulled from that dumpster. But even worse than the psychical wounds was the shame and humiliation at being gang-raped by a group of thugs. Thankfully for her own mental wellness, she passed out before they take out the camera and start filming it as they took it in turns...

Looking down at their work, two of the guys were still in the middle of fixing their trousers. One of them sounded almost contrite for what they had done, almost. "Oh my God. We've gone too far this time. Even for us."

Mulling over what Emily must have been thinking to do something so selfish, The Mother Fucker looked out the window at the destruction that Mother Russia alone had wrecked. "C'mon! We need to get out of here before they send more cops!"

* * *

Well I was going to split this chapter into two, but I went against that, so instead I'm going to just put my thoughts in two separate parts, since I feel that they both take two separate tones.

For the most part, I think I did an ok job with this one... I really do like both versions of this most horrible act, and as a fan, I can say that I think I did pretty darn good with how I blended it! No, I'm completely deranged - I like little parts that make up the bigger picture, like the line about dads being bulletproof in the comics and his little song in the movie. I know, it really does sound so wrong to say, but I like those scenes for other reasons than the rape/beating. Which to be honest, I can say that I was really underwhelmed by Night Bitch's injuries when Dave visits her in the hospital. A little dusting of brown make-up here and and there? Really? Bah, that whole movie was so watered down! And yet I still love it so... And see, he does love her too, in his own way. Half-asleep, he notices that she's not there, and he almost blows off a major blow in his master plan, just to make sure that she's alright! It's so fucked, but also kinda sweet...

That so just happened! Looks like there just might be the pitter-patter of little baby Mother Fucker feet. Ok, I'm sorry, that so just took me back to _Pineapple Express_, "This is the product of baby fucking". And speaking of _Pineapple Express_, how many peeps here have seen _This is the End_? That movie was so incredibly awesome! There's one thing in it that kinda depresses me and makes me wonder, but OMG, that movie was fucking epic! And it really got me thinking, which is weird! Sorry, I'm a little on the hyper side of tired. Is it wrong that I was thinking of _Scrubs_ while writing the for the doctor and the nurse? I watched that show randomly, at best. It was funny, but not enough to make me watch it regularly.

Well, I don't know what the point of asking for reviews is by this point... It seems pretty obvious by now that that is something I hold in high esteem (or whatever you want to call it), so we all know the steps without the instructions having to be regurgitated back in our faces.

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minors too.


	22. Kiss or Kill, issue 2

_Danger. Danger. Danger. Sell me your love. Hey girls._

A large abandoned fish cannery or some shit, The Toxic Mega Cunts took over the spacious building, making it their own. It took for-fucking-ever to get done so it was up to snuff, but with hard work and a shit ton of money, this place was fucking awesome! There was a stage, to better address his followers; a fully stocked bar, which was one of the first features they had installed and finished; a bitchin' DJ and sound system wired throughout the building; digital displays and banners to show their villainous pride; rotating tables to get a 360 degree view of the strippers; pinball machines and other games to blow off steam; an indoor garage to show-off; and a mother fucking shark tank! What lair was complete without a shark?

Walking in with what he referred to as 'the core group' , The Mother Fucker was seeing the final product for the first time. He was so stoked by what he was seeing, he couldn't help but to give the air a little pelvic action. "This evil lair owns!"

Already served a drink and seated at one of the tables, Black Death looked over at the Mother Fucker, wondering if the kid was for real. "Do people still say that? 'Owns'? "

"Yeah, of course." The Mother Fucker was kind of just walking around, still taking everything in.

"It's not bad." Genghis Carnage stepped in, taking a seat next to The Tumor, who was already stuffing his face with a bowel of popcorn. "But there's something wrong with your shark."

The Tumor chimed in, a fist-full of snack food as he indicated the stagnant sea dweller behind them. "You used the wrong kind of water."

The asshole working maintenance - the one in charge of almost everything - came down the stairs that lined either side of the tank, "No. Chris. That's just their way of settling in to their new environment."

"Black Heart did good." Mother Russia acknowledged the other woman while their boss was getting into an argument over the shark situation. "Where is she?"

Yeah, it felt as if none of them had seen a lot of her since she had come back from the hospital after she tried to off herself. Normally she would be somewhere nearby, shouting at someone or if he wasn't too busy with something else, sucking face with the Mother Fucker. If he was, she would be right by his side. Now that The Toxic Mega Cunts had their base and all of the superheroes were being rounded up for their own actions, the core group would have figured that the two of them would be off, christening the new building. Like the Engergizer Bunny of sex.

Altercation over for the moment, The Mother Fucker's face twitched in annoyance as he looked back at his henchmen. Ever since she had tried to leave him, Emily had been staying in some bullshit funk she called 'seclusion', but really she had just been sitting on her ass, ignoring him. Whatever was running through her mind, it was fucking annoying. Sure, she had still come in to perform her duties as Black Heart, but there was just something off about her...

It was probably that asshole's fault! Not really much of a secret that her best friend had never liked him, admittedly that was a deep-seated hatred they shared, this was just the excuse he had been waiting for to try to split them up. Knight wouldn't put her life in danger (Chris gave him credit for that much), so he obviously didn't put her up to the suicide attempt, but he was still a conniving cuntsicle, so he had probably twisted her mind until she saw things his way. Or maybe it wasn't that he was going after them maliciously - that would never work anyways - what if he was trying to make them split up by suggesting that they take the next step in their relationship and add all that unnecessary pressure?

That would be just like him, the little cum-stain. It wasn't like Chris hadn't thought about their future together - even back when his father was alive they had discussed the possibility of Chris marrying her - he just thought that they didn't need to complicate things when they were pretty much married already anyways. He assumed that she had known as much and was cool with it, but apparently not...

Hm, would a ring really be all he needed to get her back to the Emily he knew and loved...?

"She's still recovering." It wasn't a lie - he just wasn't being specific about what she was actually recovering from. But why did he need to tell these pecker-woods anything? Chris had sworn that she was going to pay for making him unable to perform, and he kept his word. Did he need to add the interest from her scaring him and making him think that she was going to leave? Possibly not, but it was done now. "Black Heart should be back in commission soon."

Except he was wrong about that...

[**Some Time Later...**]

Killing Kick-Ass' father in prison and texting him the picture was a brilliant idea, but the one downside was that young Mr. Genovese wasn't there to personally see the look on his sorry face when he got the news. But from personal experience, Chris knew that the pain never went away - it only became bearable. Still though, it seemed as if so much was going right, and yet, there was always some kind of a kink in the proceedings. The lair was finished, but MC Shark was possibly deceased. Emily was back and in good health, and yet she was pulling away from everything, as if she were dying on the inside.

As if to ensure that this cycle continued and his victory was dampened, Emily chose the eve of the most important night of Chris' life to come to him. The fucking night before they were going to get Kick-Ass and finally kill him! She had waited this long, so why the fuck couldn't she wait one day more?! Well, more like two, because he imagined that the party would last over twenty-four hours; knowing him so intimately, that was probably why she chosen this moment...

Waiting for him to get back from what they commonly referred to as 'work', the artist was standing across from the door, her hands clasped a little below the waistline. Her eyes were bloodshot and smeared, giving off the impression that she had been crying all day. By the way she was looking at him, he could tell that this was serious, that in this moment, there was no Mother Fucker and no Black Heart, no Toxic Mega Cunts, and not even a grudge match - there was just Chris and Emily. Maybe not even an Emily... She was just so preoccupied in her own damn mind!

It was easy to see that she wanted to run to him and throw her arms around his neck and just forget about everything, but it was one of those rare times that that option was impossible. Emily had had days now to find the exact words to say, but she was just so confused... No, there was no turning back. "Chris, we have to talk."

"About tomorrow?"

She shook her head, wishing that it were only about tomorrow. "Not quite. I mean you of all people should realize that a lot could happen tomorrow, right? I know that you're going to win, but..." Emily sighed, walking over to the couch so that she could sit down. She was quiet until he sat next to her, both of them rotating their bodies so they could face each other, her hands resting on his knee. "I think we've put this off long enough... There's something that's been on my mind, and I have to ask before it drives me insane... Where do you see us? Say you kill Kick-Ass and the city burns at your feet, what next? Will you you focus on building up your own empire? And what about me...?" Damn her eyes, she couldn't hold it back anymore as she choked up, "Will you just cast me aside when you don't want me any more? Am I just some kind of bridge to normalcy?"

Was that what this is about? Her thinking that he didn't love her anymore because he was so busy doing this thing for them? Didn't she realize that this was just as much for her as it was for him? Well, maybe not just as much, but there was a part of this that was for her as well. He scoffed at Emily's stupidity, "Dumbass. Of course I love you! Don't you remember that they killed your father too?"

Predictable. She had been expecting that kind of answer from Chris, and while this did help somewhat (ok, it was almost everything she needed to hear), she needed to go further back, to know that her entire life wasn't built on the wrong kind of ground. "Before that. You told me that you loved me the first time that we had sex, and I need to know if you meant it."

Chris was feeling backed into a corner and therefore defensive. He wasn't likely to forget it, but she honestly expected him to remember that night? Pft, typical chick bullshit. "Did you forget? You made me do it. If only you had consented, I would have had to take what I wanted." He always said 'take what he wanted', but he never came outright with it and said the word 'rape'. "The heart came later."

Fraying, something unraveled inside of her mind, breaking inside of her chest when he admitted that he had lied to her when he had first told her that he loved her. "You told me that you loved me... I thought all of this time that it was for my own good, that I was completely to blame, but all this time, it was you..." Shocked, Emily had thought that the turmoil inside her mind couldn't get any worse than what it had been, but apparently she was mistaken about that. "How could I have been such an idiot? You just used me, and I was dumb enough to think that you...!" Sobbing, Emily removed her hand from his knee, wanting at that moment to never touch him again. "You raped me, and I let you do it for years! You don't love me... You can't love anything!"

"Do you really want to play this game?" Chris cocked his head at her. "You fucking whore."

Why not? Might as well as put it all out there now! "Yeah, I'm a whore. The only person I was ever with was you!" Well, that wasn't strictly true, because there this one time they had dropped some laced ecstasy with one of his dealers and her girlfriend, but she barely counted that (mostly because she didn't remember a great deal of what had happened between them and those two girls). "I gave you my heart from the very beginning! And what, you gave me a fraction of a thought once? And when was that? The second time you raped me? The fourth? Because it sure as fuck wasn't when I tried to kill myself!"

Backhanding her, they could hear one of her teeth braking as her head spun around and struck the back of the divan. Spitting the tooth out just before he could grab her face by the jaw, copious amounts of gore hit the back of the sofa, dribbling down her chin as she cried out at the searing agony blazing up and down the side of her cheek. "You stupid cunt. You think that I don't love you? I fucking waited at that hospital for you to wake up, you gash, and I almost didn't even go fuck that stupid whore that was fucking Kick-Ass! In fact, I couldn't get it up, because of you! Do you realize how much that embarrassed me in front of my men?" He rubbed her inner though, the tips of his fingers gliding through the space beneath her shorts. "Something tells me that that won't be a problem tonight."

Where constricting fear not coursing through her veins, Emily might have felt responsible for what had happened to him with Night Bitch, but the terror suffocating her chest was far stronger than any guilt she had at learning that he had been there for her. She screamed out, but it was pointless, because unlike what happened at her birthday party, there was no one that even_ could_ hear her. That dangerous gleam was back in his eyes, but there was no enjoyment in him thinking that she was on the verge of abandoning him. His eyes flashed as he pounced on top of her helpless form, pinning her against the davenport, breath warm against her ear as he bit her earlobe.

Whispering in her hair, his tone was nothing short of menacing when he spoke, "You can't stop the inevitable - you belong to me! Even try to leave me, and I will kill you myself. I might not be able to beat those heroes with my bare hands, but you, I know I can kill." If he didn't love her, he would have killed her so long ago; but no matter how much he cared for her, he would not hesitate to end her if she betrayed him.

Tears rolled down her eyes, mixing with her blood. He kissed her face, trailing a soft path across her lips until he found the place where it hurt her the worst, at which point he added pressure to his actions, gratified by every time she would whimper from the pain. She hurt him, he hurt her back worse. No matter how much he cried and acted like she didn't like it, obviously she was lying, or else she wouldn't keep coming back for more. A sadist and a masochist, they were made for each other... At least he thought so...

[**Later...**]

After he had finished making her see the error of her ways, only pausing for one fleeting second to ponder upon the option of just fucking her raw and ending her misery, or taking his sweet time making (some twisted kind of) love with her as he made her see just how much he loved her - as if there really a choice - he opted to make her suffer. Apparently she had gotten careless on the pedestal, so it was time to re-educate her with the laws of gravity: Bitch goes up, bitch comes down.

Brushing the hair from the back of her neck, Chris absent-mindedly petted her head while he flicked through the channels on the internet-connected TV, finding an old clip from 'Funny or Die'. Watching, he laughed at the two gentlemen seated at a rather nice table in the middle of nowhere, eating a plate of spaghetti. Until he had turned on her like this, Emily had been so terribly conflicted about what to do with their little problem - a problem that only she knew existed - but now, she knew exactly what had to be done...

Tonight was all the proof she needed to know that they weren't prepared for this... That she wasn't ready to do what was right, that even after everything, she still couldn't find it in her heart to say good-bye...

* * *

So I have no idea what the actual lyrics are, since no one seems to have them (not even a guess), but this is supposed to be the song "Danger", by Marco Polo and Torae. It plays the first time you see the Mother Fucker's lair (in the second movie), when they're talking about his sick shark and what to do about Kick-Ass and his dad. Again, this chapter underwent a number of rewrites, but I think that this worked out the best. Anyways, that video that Chris is watching at the end is a real video - one that I find highly amusing! They're called "_You're So Hot_", if you haven't watched them (the one in the story is part deux), and they star Dave Franco and Christopher Mintz-Plasse. Yup, shameless advertisements! Seriously though, they make me crack up, especially the second one!

So, if you like really jacked humor, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, and/or Dave Franco, here's the Youtube link to the first (note, I'm not responsible for what you'll see/hear when you watch this video) short:

(enter the youtube website and add the blackslash) watch? v=J6QOLBHPF18

And here's the second (which is the one featured in the story), if you're interested:

(enter the youtube website and add the blackslash) watch? v=ssw-mPYRSZs

Sorry that came out so balls - I'm really not that familiar with linking stuff... Anyways, I hope that some people review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minors too.


	23. Kiss or Kill, issue 3

Meeting secretly ever since that night, Dave and Mindy had arranged to be visiting either a sick friend, doing community service, or be shopping/hanging out, but somehow if one could track that, one one learn that all of those activities led them to one place. Now either that was one hell of a mall, or they were lying to everyone. Sure, Mindy was having an even harder time of it after it came to Marcus' attention that she had sent three girls home from school, but since this didn't have anything to do with her promise about not being Hit Girl, she only felt so bad for it. It didn't hurt any that whatever she couldn't forgive herself for, Dave was able to help her forget, even if only for a short while...

It was on their way to and from these trysts that they kept seeing the same woman, always pacing outside of the same building, always looking over her shoulder as if she were being followed by someone. Dave wanted to try to help her, but Mindy insisted that if she kept hanging around outside an abortion clinic, there was only so much they could do. As much as she wanted to get involved, Mindy had to resist the temptation, lest this one moment of random kindness lead her back into being Hit Girl.

For whatever it was worth, it was probably for the best that they didn't interfere, because what they didn't know from observation alone was that this woman was not only an enemy, but was fucking Dave's archenemy. And the shadows she kept jumping at? That was the security hounding her every step so she couldn't run from her boyfriend, but that inevitably was what was keeping her from ever going inside, lest they ever catch on that the path of her daily walk was her trying something else.

But even if he did know that, Dave still would have wanted to help her if he could - no one deserved to be as miserable and confused as she obviously was. He desired to try to talk to the girl, so he had planed to one day arrive a little early, however the death of his father had rendered him in a shocked state, so he had no idea why he found himself waiting at the bus-stop outside of the clinic, let alone on the day of his father's funeral. He wasn't even right inside his own mind, so what the fuck good could he possibly do this woman? These days, he wasn't even sure how he managed to take care of himself...

It was drizzling, but sporadically, so there was little point in an umbrella. The weather was probably going to clear up, at least he hoped so for his father's sake. Emily, for the first time, was alone, which she found somewhat strange after last night, but given that today was the day that was going to end everything, it made sense that all hands would be full with relevant jobs. She wasn't going to leave Chris, she just wasn't strong enough to, so all of his efforts to keep her were just a waste of perfectly good manpower. Besides, after last night, he wasn't very worried about her, not when the capture of Kick-Ass was only hours away.

"Hey!" Head bent as he watched her walking across his line of sight, Dave shouted out at her. He had no idea what he was going to say to her.

Looking around the otherwise barren area (too bad her womb couldn't say it was in the same state), Emily realized that the guy sitting over at the bus stop must have been talking to her, so she cautiously approached him, standing a safe distance from the bench. He looked harmless enough, but then again, so did Chris. "What do you want, boy I don't know?" She was armed, but she really hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

Leaning back for a moment as he stretched his legs out, Dave looked at her more closely. "You're not going in there, are you?" He pointed at the building across the street. "Your situation can't be that bad, can it?"

Oh, it could. And it was. "What does it matter to you?"

Dave frowned, "Nothing, but I don't think that you should be here, not today." He found himself explaining, "My dad's funeral is today. He was killed by some asshole in a mask."

Having no idea who she was talking to, it didn't cross her mind that this was Kick-Ass. All she could think of was how they had that in common. "Me too."

Patting the space next to himself, Dave spoke as if he weren't a boy going out in costume at night, trying to do something good in the world. "You think that you have all the time in the world to make up, but suddenly then you find out that you don't, that your dad was killed by some dick trying to play something more than a human, caught up in a world of delusions... I always loved heroes, but now, I have to wonder what the point is..."

Having sat down very soon after hearing just how much they had in common, Emily nodded in sympathy, "My father disowned me, and I never got the chance to make it up to him, to be his daughter. I know that defeats the purpose of being disowned, but I always had hoped that we could make amends... But I never got that chance. Heroes were all that me and my boyfriend would breath, but now that they're real, everything has changed, and nothing is how it's supposed to be! It's driving my boyfriend up the wall, and he's so far gone, I can't even tell him that I'm pregnant..." She pursed her lips, not meaning to divulge so much to a complete stranger. But that was probably what made it so easy, as Emily had scarcely even thought the word in her head, let alone said it out loud.

"My girlfriend," Dave wasn't entirely sure what he and Mindy were at the moment, but since this girl was a total stranger, it didn't hurt to make assumptions, "and I saw you. You've been here almost every day this week."

Inclining her head, Emily looked at the cracks in the pavement. "I've been so scared, ever since I found out that I was with child, and he wasn't there. He hasn't been there a lot, especially lately. I haven't been able to talk to anyone about it, and honestly, I'm afraid that he's going to find out any day now." She had threatened to kill the bodyguard outside of her room that day if he said anything to The Mother Fucker, but that could only hold up for so long. "I don't want him to know that I am pregnant, but up until now, I never had the opportunity to actually go inside."

Sounded like there were more factors to this than she was admitting to. "You should tell him. Even if you still end up coming here, he has a right to know."

Of course Chris had that right, but did she really have to tell him before getting rid of the baby? Couldn't she just go inside, get it done, and then if it ever did come up, tell him then? "If I tell him now, then I worry that he'll make me keep it." Emily thought of Chris and of how he had been with his own father, of how John had once spoken to her in confidence about the possibility of her helping to carry on the Genovese name. "We both lost our fathers, and I'm afraid that this will affect him in ways I can't guess. Don't get me wrong - I love my boyfriend, more than anything, but we're not ready for that kind of responsibility."

Really? Because even though he had only known her for a handful of moments now, Dave had the impression that she was a rather put-together kind of girl, even sitting outside of an abortion clinic. But maybe she wasn't. "Not everyone is ready for what comes their way, but you deal with it the best you can." That was something had dad had tried to teach him...

"..." Emily looked over at Dave, "I really do have to tell him, don't I?"

The mask of Kick-Ass nodded. "You should."

Sighing, Emily glanced over at Dave, "Somehow, I think this really helped me. I don't know how," Or even how she was going to survive this, "But you're right. I've committed too much to my boyfriend to risk it all now..." Dave gave her a funny little look, some distant part of his mind thinking that she had missed his point entirely, but she didn't notice. "Whoever you are, you're alright."

"Dave Lizewski." He extended his hand, taking hers in his own. Shaking it firmly, he noticed vaguely that she had a tattoo of a white lily snaking up her wrist, blood dripping down the petals.

She smiled half-heartedly. Somehow, that name was ringing a bell, as if she had heard it recently . "Emily. Emily Vela. It's nice to meet you, Dave."

"You too."

Shaking hands once more, Emily stood up, and they parted ways, expecting to never see each other again. Sadly, that would not be the case...

* * *

Did you see that coming? Dave and Emily meet, and what's more, they actually get along! Wonder what'll happen next... I know (this time in a general sense), but I'm trying to get you guys pumped for the next chapter. Did it work?!

Tell me and review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minors too.


	24. Kiss or Kill, issue 4

Filled with confidence in a stranger's idea, Emily went back to Chris, fully intending to share with him the news that she was pregnant, and that they should decide what to do about it together (positive to voice that her opinion was to abort it), but it seemed like everything was against her, because first she had just missed him leaving, and then she was given incorrect information, so she went somewhere wrong altogether, and then when she thought to try him by phone, she couldn't reach him because her phone died! Then, when she was finally able to track him down, he was too busy being pulled this way and that by everyone else, so she couldn't even find a second to fit in a word edge-wise. Sure, she could have just screamed it at him, but she figured that she had worked this hard to hide it and had waited this long to tell him, so when her lunch wasn't kicking her ass, the temporary oven figured that she could simply just pass on the information at the first convenience (which was likely going to be at some point after these next 48 hours).

S.o.L. for the next couple of days, Emily figured that it would be best to keep her head low for whatever reason, so she ducked out of the base at the first opportunity that arose, and she went back to their place. The light show should start in another few hours, so while they worked at setting everything up, she figured out the best possible place to watch everything happen.

But there was nothing. The Mother Fucker was so absolutely sure about the time line, he had perfectly mapped everything out, and already thirty minutes had passed, and still, nothing. Panicked, Emily was about to go back to the base to check on everything, but the minute she poked her toes into the cab, her phone rang.

_But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo._  
_What the hell am I doing here?_  
_I don't belong here._

"Vic?" Emily answered her phone immediately, knowing it was never good when he was calling. In fact, Vic Gigante had never called her personally in the past, so she feared the worst. "Where's Chris?!"

Even through the phone, there was just no hiding the fact that something had gone so horribly wrong. "Chris has just been brought in. It's bad. Real bad. You better get down the station, pronto." He didn't have the heart to tell the kid's girlfriend over the phone that her boyfriend had just been pushed off a roof. "Angie's already on her way."

Emily didn't have time to be concerned about running into his mother, not when Chris was in serious condition. Changing her course for the station, she dimly wondered why she wasn't heading off for the hospital. "Vic, tell me what happened! If Chris is hurt, why is he at the station? Dammit, I want to talk to him!"

Hysteric, her voice was almost enough to make his eardrums bleed. He was more than used to dealing with sobbing sons and weeping wives, but this whole situation was coming as a shock all around. "You can't - he's out cold." It might have nice to tell her that it was from the doctors and their morphine, but he was more concerned with the fact that they would transferring him once the paperwork was processed. "Just get here." He hung up the phone on her, before she had the chance to scramble his brains.

Like almost everyone else, Vic was all for Emily and Chris, since at least when he a girlfriend, Chris seemed a little less bizarre than the average kid. No, he didn't think that Emily improved him any, but at least she kept him busy and out of his dad's hair. When John passed, it was with an approval of the relationship, so he saw no reason to change his mind. But all the same, he still should have had one of his men make this call to her, since there was no way in hell that his mother was going to do it...

[**At The Station...**]

Running like she's never run before, Emily sprinted all the way to Vic's office, refusing to stop until she saw him. He was already talking to Angie, but stopped mid-sentence when he saw Chris' girlfriend. Angie turned around, glaring daggers at the young woman, but this time it didn't stop - flying straight at her, Angie back-handed the girl. Holding her face, Emily was shocked to see that Angie was crying. Being hit was nothing new, not when it came to that family, but seeing that that woman wasn't made of stone?

"You! You little cunt, I hope you're proud of yourself!" The older woman looked as if she were about to strike Emily again, but she overcame the urge. "I always knew that you were no good! And now look at what you've done!" She pointed at the open file on Vic's desk. "My son is in jail! You know as well as anyone else that he isn't well, so why did you allow him to do this?!"

Jail?! But his brilliant plan...

Staggering back as the news hit her, the artist only barely making her way to a seat after a few moments of holding on to the door for support. The girl turned her gaze between the adults. "What happened?"

Vic didn't know exactly what to say, but they all knew that if Angie her mouth it would sound-

"He assembled a gang, and they attacked the city! But of course you would have known that if you were doing your job and watching over him!" For once, Emily agreed that Angie had every right to be mad at her, but she only wished that it was for the right reasons. "I warned him time and again that you would lead him astray, but did he listen to me? No! He listened to a cheap hoochy that probably spreads her legs for half the neighborhood the instant he has his back turned! As if it wasn't enough that he was a freak, you had to come into the picture and make him worse!" Ok, it was getting kind of old now. "Even your own father could see what trash you were!"

- A lot like that.

A nerve was definitely touched. "Don't talk about Chris like that! He's his own man, and I'm his girlfriend, not his babysitter! I put up with a lot from you, but the two things I won't is you talking about your own son like this, and you bringing up my parents. Hate on me all you want, but this is the last time that I hear you mention my family as a negative."

Angie scoffed, "Please, what can a little beaner like you do?"

Oh, if she kept pressing her like this, Angie was going to find out...!

"Ladies, Chris, remember?" Someone had to get them on track, and from the looks of things, that had to be Vic. "We have bigger things to worry about like getting Chris off." Shooting each other matching grimaces, Angie and Emily were just daring the other to say something about that accidental innuendo, but neither opened their mouths, which came as a huge shock to officer. "These charges... " He shook his head, glossing the files with his eyes. "My hands are tied."

Respectively, both of their mouths fell, "What does that mean for him?"

Shaking his head, Vic could only offer his sympathies. "I didn't call you in here to give you good news - I called you in here to brace yourselves for what's to come. Angie, your son is responsible for no shortage of deaths, and for whatever reason, you avoided that Emily. He's gonna need you both, if you can put aside your bullshit for five seconds."

For Chris, Emily would do anything, even if that meant tolerating his mother. For once, Angie completely agreed, which left her feeling as if there wasn't enough soap in the world to clean away that feeling. While Vic filled them in on the details of what he expected to happen, Chris was being prepped to be taken to a special ward in the prison. The guards might have given the women a couple of minutes with the convict, but he was still out cold.

* * *

You know, I don't think I've ever pounded out twenty-odd chapters in only a month. Kind of impressive, but a tad frustrating, as I know I can do better (quality wise, not quantity). So, yeah, going a little closer to the comics, what with Kick-Ass 3, but I am a little upset, as I would have preferred the next issue to be out, just so we have a good idea of where the story is going... Well, I guess that's what imaginations are for...

...No.

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minors too. The song "_Creep_" belongs to Radiohead.


	25. Kiss or Kill, issue 5

It was days before the prison had cleared Chris for any visitors, and he was in such bad shape, Emily just couldn't find a way to tell him her news. She really wanted to, but every time that there was a chance for her to bring it up, she would just look at him, at the bandages and misery, and bow out. Before she knew it, the days had turned into weeks, and she was starting to show. Thankfully she had had an extensive sweater collection, but it was getting to point where even that wasn't enough to hide the weight gain. But so long as he didn't notice, it would be fine. Somehow...

Standing at his side, alone since it was becoming harder and harder for his mother to bear to see him like this, Emily had not missed a single opportunity to visit Chris. The bank account probably wished that she wasn't creating some of her own opportunities. "You know, I've been listening to a lot of this band lately, and they're actually pretty good-"

"Emily, just stop it with the bullshit already." For weeks now she had been visiting him, doing everything in her power to avoid talking about what had happened that day. "You weren't there when we took to the streets, owning Times Square. Where were you?"

Looking down guiltily, she thought of that guy she had met outside of the abortion clinic, of how with only so many words he had had convinced her to hold off on doing anything stupid before talking with her boyfriend. He would probably tell her right now to just confess everything. To be honest. But that was harder to do now, because she was starting to change her mind about wanting that abortion. Was it off the table? Not entirely, but it wasn't so easy to say that it was an option now.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the more she came to care about the little fetus growing inside of her, it became easier to lie to Chris, to protect someone other than him for the first time in her life. "I was... around."

He could feel the fear in her, radiating in her like some kind of anti-light, but he thought that it had another source. That despite his declarations, she was off fucking some other asshole. "'Around?'" He repeated incredulously, "What kind of a bullshit answer is that, you fucking cow?"

Cunt would have been better to hear in her mind, for so many reasons. "I was around. At our place, out at the base, wherever, just waiting for show time. I wanted to help, but after the thing with that Justice Forever twat, I was afraid that I would fuck something up. I had so much faith in your plan, I never would have imagined that it was going to end up like this... "

"If I could move right now, I'd be strangling you." He glared at her, and she completely believed his words. "After my warnings, you still betrayed me! You left me alone to have my ass almost killed!" Upset beyond the point of blind rage and unable to do anything about it in his condition, Chris broke down and started to cry. "Where were you when I was getting pushed off that roof? Sucking some faggot's cock?" His voice cracked. "And then you have the fucking balls to come to me as if nothing happened!"

Feeding off his own emotions and extra sensitive these last few days, Emily started to cry as well, "I didn't know how to act or what to say... You think I'm not haunted by the fact that I wasn't there for you?! Every morning I wake up, knowing that you're in here because of me, and every night I fall asleep, crying because I know that you're suffering, and it was my fault! This is killing us all, having you in this awful place!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't come back."

Out of every hurtful thing he had ever said to her, this was easily in the top three. "I don't care how much you hate me - I'm not leaving you here alone. I will never abandon you, not ever!" Standing up to leave, she knew that her time was almost up, and for once, she was glad to say goodbye. "I can't..."

Wondering what she meant by that, Chris didn't get the chance to ask, because she was already leaving. But he did still have the chance to be spiteful, shouting at her retreating figure. "Donuts can't replace me!"

Fucking bastard... At least he only thought that she was getting fat, as opposed to the truth...

[**Later...**]

Alone at their apartment, sitting curled up on the couch, Emily was watching the television, but she wasn't seeing what was playing on the screen, because she couldn't stop thinking about her last visit to the prison. He had said so many things to her out of anger in the past, but what if he had really meant it this time? What if he had just broken up with her for real? Alone, that would kill her, but she wasn't alone, not right now. What if she did keep the baby? She couldn't support it on her own... Herself, just barely, but a baby? There was just no way...

So alone, and more confused than ever before, Emily wished that there was someone out there she could go to for help, for guidance. Maybe she could ask Dave? Just look him up online and ask him what he thought? Jesus, how desperate was she? Going to some stranger she had met once!

The answer was very. She was extremely desperate. Fuck, she was so unsure about what to do, she probably would have considered asking Kick-Ass for help, if she thought for a moment that he was actually able to help her with something like this. But no, he was more into helping with stalkers and shit like that, not relationship issues. Pft, besides Night Bitch, he probably had zero experience when it came to this...

But still, she had to ask someone. Knight was back in LA now, and anyways, she didn't want to hear the smugness in his voice (or read it), and all of her family was dead now, so there was no one else she could possibly turn to. Getting their laptop out, ignoring all the porn her boyfriend didn't bother to hide (mostly it was just on there to fluster her), Emily went to all the major social networks, looking for Dave Lizewski. Once she was confident that she had tracked down the right guy, Emily began to type out a message, praying that he remembered her.

_Hi, it's Emily Vela. I don't know if you remember me, but you gave me some advise a couple of weeks ago, outside the abortion clinic. I'm sorry to come to you like this, but I really don't know where to turn... My boyfriend was recently taken to prison, and I haven't been able to tell him yet - about the baby - and when I was just able to visit him last, we got into a huge fight. I have no clue what to do. I feel so lost... I don't know what I'm asking for, but please, I really need help._

There was no point in mentioning why her boyfriend was in prison, or even who he was. She had seen the shit that Angie had to endure just from being his mother, and she actually felt bad for the bitch. Emily could only imagine how severally people would react to knowing that she was willing connected to a "homicidal sociopath", and if anyone knew that she was actually carrying his child...? Something told her that she wouldn't have to worry about the dilemma of an abortion anymore.

Sending the message, all she could do now was wait for a reply...

[**Meanwhile, Across the City...**]

Working the team so hard - he had to if they were going to break Mindy out of prison - Dave had figured that he would give the guys the night off to rest up. He still went hard at it, but not quite as hard as he normally did. Ever since Mindy had been arrested for saving his ass by buying him the time he needed to escape, Dave had been training relentlessly to get ready. Together or not, he owed her everything, so there was no way that he couldn't put his all into her pre-prepared prison-break plans.

Like normal, he left his computer up while he worked-out so he was always ready to help anyone in need. Just as he was getting ready to take a break, Dave heard the little sound that indicated he had a message. Going to the computer, he opened up the message from Emily, reading it. At first, since it was addressed to Dave and not Kick-Ass, he was just going to wait to read it, but the subject caught his eye (it said 'HELP' in all-caps), so he hastily opened the message and read. Dave remembered Emily. Dimly, but he remembered her.

He sent a reply:

_I remember you. Why don't we meet in person so we can discuss this. What time works for you?_

There was almost no down time before her return came.

_Is now too soon? Just whenever you can._

He scanned her letter, eyes lowering for a moment to look at the time on the bottommost part of the screen. It was 1:40 A.M. Wow, she really must have been panicked. Poor girl.

_Now's fine. Where?_

This time there was a short pause.

_Does my place work?_

For a second he had to think about that, since not all of the Toxic Mega Cunts had been rounded up, and even without them, there were still punks that had probably come up with the notion to trap and harm him. But then two things hit him - Emily had no idea that he was Kick-Ass, and being so late at night when she's panicked out of her mind, it was probably best for her not to travel.

_Sure._

Getting his shoes on while he waited for her to type out the address, Dave left with it printed on the back of his hand. Hailing a cab, he took it to - irony of all ironies - Chris Genovese's apartment. Not that he knew who was renting the space. Not yet. Although from just the outside alone, he could tell that it was someone rich.

* * *

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minors too.


	26. Ending Undoing, issue 1

Arriving outside of some ritzy complex in a nicer part of the city than he hailed from, Dave Lizewski glanced down at the back of his hand once more, just to be sure that he was at the right place. According to what his hand told him, he was, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of disbelief. He just didn't see Emily to be the kind of girl that would live in an area like this, based on the one conversation that they had. Standing just outside of the front door, waiting for him with her arms crossed over a gigantic sweater, was the young woman that had called. Seeing Dave getting out of the taxi, Emily looked a little less upset, but only marginally.

"You made it." She nodded towards the building as she led him inside. "I'm sorry to make you come down here on such short notice." Still in his stupor, he just kind of nodded at her, following her passed the various building staff. Stepping into the elevator, she pressed the top floor. "I hope you weren't busy."

Finally getting his bearings, about half-way to their destination, Dave shook his head. "It's not that short notice. If anything, its overdue."

Tilting her head, she just kind of looked at him, wondering if that was his attempt at trying to be funny, because if it was, she was far from amused. "...Right." This was probably one of the most awkward elevator rides in history. Thankfully, it wasn't that much longer before they were inside of the apartment. "This is me."

You know the saying about hindsight being a bitch? Yeah, they were very quick to become personally acquainted with that expression. Walking straight in, almost immediately, one of the first things you see upon entering the apartment is a rather large portrait of Chris that Emily painted. And right next to that were two smaller paintings, one of the both of them, and another of them together with his family, Javier, and a reflection in a mirror that looked suspiciously like her own father and mother. She was so freaked-out by her predicament, she hadn't even considered removing any obvious evidence of who her boyfriend was.

Frozen in the doorway, all Dave could do was stare between the pictures, pointing at them. "Is this...?!" Realizing her fatal error, the young woman could only close her eyes, a look of 'oh, shit' on her face, as there was no mistaking the tone in his voice. "Are you dating Chris Genovese?!"

Game over. No matter how good a guy Dave possibly could be, there was just no way that he would help the girlfriend of the guy that had tried to destroy Times Square. No fucking way. Dave had no idea what baffled him the most - the fact that Chris Genovese could have a girlfriend in the first place, or the fact she was was going to have his little monster and he didn't even know about it! Processing this new information, he was at odds internally; should he do the right thing and help this poor girl, or because of her connection to Chris, should he assume the worst of her and just turn his back now?

Dropping her head, Emily turned her back to Dave, looking at the picture of her family. "I wouldn't blame you for leaving. After all, why should you help me? I've known who Chris was ever since we started dating, long before he donned any mask, and I never did a thing to stop him. In many ways, I'm probably worse than he is, because I know that what we were doing is wrong, and even though I've objected, I never stopped him. He's killed so many people, hurt them and those close to them, and I just watched from afar. Truth be told, I should be in prison too. In fact, were it not for you talking me down that day, I probably would be." Sighing, she looked upon the faces of the dead. "You know, when we first became villains, I thought that there was a reason behind it, that it was to avenge our fathers, but looking back, I don't think it had much to do with them at all."

Spinning on her heel, Emily looked at Dave, her eyes downcast and full of such sadness - it was exactly how he had looked when he lost his father. He couldn't leave her, not like this. "You're a villain too?" Her head gave a meek bob. "Why are you telling me this?"

Tearing up, Emily shook her head, "I don't know. Maybe I'm just sick of having to carry all these secrets on my shoulders, or maybe I want to be forgiven. I don't know many people, Dave, and those that I do, not many of them are very nice. It's not fair to you, and I'm sorry, but sometimes you just need to let everything out, to vent to a stranger."

"Forgiveness?" He could have laughed, because even if he wasn't Kick-Ass, her boyfriend had done so much to hurt him, and from what she made it sound like, she was just as much to blame.

"...I never wanted this. Believe it or not, I was a decent person, and if I could ever learn to let all of this go, then maybe someday I could be that girl again."

Perhaps she was more of a victim than it would seem. Thinking about it, it would make sense that if she wasn't the first, she would be the most victimized. "Why do you stay with him?"

Even still, her answer was as natural as breathing, "I love him. Chis is a terrible human being, but I truly do love him."

"And what about...? He pointed at her stomach.

Grabbing herself, one hand cupped around the outside of her uterus, Emily shook her head, "When we first met, I was so willing to part with my baby, but now, I just can't imagine how it would have been so easy to get rid of. Everyday that the baby lives, the more I grow to care for it, but," Emily exhaled, running her fingers through her hair. "Well, you've seen Chris. Knowing him and every dark deed, how can I possibly keep it? If the child could somehow survive Chris, there is still the stigma that he'd have to live with. Or say I just ran away and left, chose someone else besides Chris for the first time in my life, I would have to raise her alone. I came from nothing, and I could support myself, but how can I support two? My family is all dead, and my best friend lives on the side of the country, not to mention that he's having a hard enough time on his own, so I couldn't add to that."

Try as she might to make a case to the contrary, Dave was fairly sure that she wasn't going to get rid of her child, but she was obviously still having a difficult time reaching that conclusion herself. But why shouldn't she? He just wished he knew what to say or do to help her, since he thought that his first answer wouldn't go over so well with the woman that had confirmed in so many words that she was an enemy. But what else could he possibly suggest to her?

"There are people that could help you get back on your feet," Just do it quick, like a band-aid. That's what he kept telling himself, but he knew better than to rush into this topic. "If they see that you really want to change."

Snorting, Emily knew exactly to whom he was referring. "What, grovel before those Justice Forever douchebags?" She didn't miss the look on his face. "Oh, come on! You know as well as I do that they wouldn't help me, not if they knew who I was..." It was redundant since he already knew exactly what the Mother Fucker had done, but she didn't know that, so he listed off a list of his offenses. "Chris murdered their leader and his dog, mutilated the remains, and destroyed their base, all while mocking them! He had one of the female members gang-raped and humiliated, just because he had it in his mind that she was fucking Kick-Ass, and..." Finally, it hit her who she was talking to, because he couldn't hide his natural reaction to every vile thing that Chris Genovese had done to him. "Oh, my God, you're him, aren't you? You're Kick-Ass!"

* * *

Shocker of all shockers - just when I had given up hope for another review, I got one from JessBerry23! Again, thanks! Just so there's no confusion, Emily has no idea what gender the baby is right now.

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minors too.


	27. Ending Undoing, issue 2

As if happening in slow motion, Dave could only watch as her mouth formed the words, his brain both behind and ahead of what was happening. The personal attacks - as well as the frying of his balls - only screamed that The Mother Fucker knew his secret identity, so it only made sense that she would too, but from the candid way that they wold interact, he assumed that she did not, and now, listening to the shock in her voice, he gathered that she really did have no idea. But how could she not, when it seemed as if they had been a couple from the very beginning? The very beginning...

For the first time since he couldn't remember when, Dave thought back to that one night in the Mist Mobile. He thought of Chris, of... No, he couldn't think about that. Not if he wanted to keep it together...

"You were the girl I spoke to on the phone..." Numbly, he put it together that Emily was the same girl that had helped to drive such a dark stake into his chest. A stake that not even Mindy knew existed. "Weren't you?"

She didn't think about that. She imagined that that night had affected Dave so much more than it had her, but she hated to go back there, to having to listen to the love of her life cheating. "...Let's just do ourselves a favor and not talk about that night. I'm sure you want to forget it more than I do."

While Dave was lost in his memories, Emily was thinking into the future, of what this meant. Not only was she still hiding the fact that she was pregnant from Chris, but now his nemesis knew about it before he did! What the fuck kind of mental alternate universe did they enter when things were this crossed?! Jesus!

Tossing a rather uncomfortable look her way, Dave tried his damnedest to get the night back on track. "We could help you. I'm sure that there's someone on the team more experienced with..." He looked down at her stomach, "this kind of thing. They could help you make a better decision."

Probably, but she wasn't quite desperate enough to turn to the other heroes. "Than you? Most likely. But I didn't call them - I called you. Forgetting for one moment that we're on opposite teams and that we killed each other's fathers, you're still the only person I know well enough to trust with this. I know that we've wronged you, and that I have no right to ask anything of you, but please, I need to know what I can do about this."

Sighing, Dave just couldn't find it in himself to walk away from her. He wanted to, to be spiteful, to make her hurt for all the hurt she had helped to inflict on him, but he just couldn't. Part of it he knew came from Mindy, that she would always help the innocent - and you didn't get much more innocent that a baby. But there was another part to it too, and he didn't completely understand it, or even where it was coming from. All he knew was that he couldn't turn his back on Emily.

"Emily, I'm not going to turn my back on you." It seemed as if Chris had done more than enough of that himself. "I promise," Covering the distance between them, Dave had his hands cupped around hers. "I won't leave you until you have everything figured out."

That was the most earnest thing she had ever heard in her entire life! But even still, she couldn't completely find it in herself to trust him blindly. "We shall see." But even with her suspicion, her gratitude was limitless. "Thank you, Dave. I really do appreciate it."

[**Some Time Later...**]

Promising to help Emily was something that Dave had not taken lightly, often bringing her with him when he wasn't on patrol with _Justice Forever. _She refused to turn to the team, but he knew deep down that she wasn't wrong for that, because it was statistically impossible that they would all accept helping her. So, not telling a soul of what he was doing in his free time, Dave would take her with him (blindfolded, so she wouldn't know where to find him later, which she quickly agreed to) while training himself, or going over to her place. It was always so late at night, and to the common observer, it would appear as if they were having some kind of an affair due to all the secrecy. And maybe in some way, they were...

After all, they both knew things about the other that not even Mindy and Chris knew - large and important things that really shouldn't have been kept to themselves - and because of that, there were absolutely no secrets between them, which a bullshit-free environment was exactly what Emily needed. Suffice it to say, they had became rather close while charting out every last possible scenario. Could the time it was taking to make a decision have been cut down? Perhaps. But she wasn't leaving anything to chance.

Seated in the living room of her apartment, sticky notes and pie charts galore spread across the floor in the same way that butter spreads across toast, Dave and Emily were taking a break from the sea of inevitable paper cuts, leaning against the back of the couch. There was really loud music playing in the background.

_Should I let you fall, lose it all_  
_So maybe you can remember yourself?_  
_Can't keep believing_  
_We're only deceiving ourselves_  
_And I'm sick of the lie_  
_And you're too late_

Bobbing her head along to the music, Emily commented off-handedly, "Chris hates this song. He hates most of the music I like." Well, what they didn't have in common musically, which actually wasn't as much as she made it sound like. "I once told him that not everything he likes is so great, and he almost strangled me with the headphones."

Try as he might, Dave still couldn't understand how she could put up with her boyfriend. And the way that she spoke so casually of his cruelty was alarming. "Why do put up with his shit? Emily, he almost killed you!"

Of course Dave wouldn't understand. "I can't explain it... I know that it's sick to tolerate the shit he puts me through, I know it is, but he's my soul mate. When I'm with him, I just feel less broken."

Reasoning with her was like trying to make Mindy see that her father really wasn't right in the head. "You keep saying he's your soul mate, but how do you know? You told me that he was the only guy you've ever been with, so how do you know?"

"I just do! I could even kiss you-"

Cutting her off, Dave had no idea what had come over him. Maybe it was the subtle change in her tone, or maybe it was just the loneliness of having Mindy locked away in prison finally wearing him down. Or maybe it was just two moments of insanity brought on from being in Chris Genovese's home. Whatever it was, all either of them could do was go with the moment...

A bit awkwardly at first, Dave kissed Emily, but instead of shoving him away with her fist, she readjusted herself so that she could kiss him back. Sweet like sugar, their lips melded at the seams, cracking inwards so slowly for the probing snake. Eyes flying open, they sprung apart even more quickly than they had come together. Turing away, Emily blushed, "...We should probably not do that again."

"Yeah, no." He shook his head in agreement.

The back of their minds were screaming at them, but both were very sexual beings at their cores, and neither had had much fulfillment since before the climax of the Times Square ordeal. Sure, masturbation was good, but after being in serious relationships, it just wasn't good enough for any span of time longer than a weekend. It didn't help that they were spending so much time alone in close proximity, her hormones amped 25/8 from the baby. Leave it to Chris to screw her into a corner and wonder off before she could get off too...

Looking over her shoulder at him, Emily was making quite the show of biting her lips. He knew that he should stop this from going any farther, that if he went any further Mindy would literally cut his dick off, that out of every woman he could be doing this with, this was the very last one he should touch, Dave couldn't stop himself from pulling her lips back into his. From the very beginning, Chris had only made it too clear what would have to her if she were to ever stray, so she could only imagine how much worse it would be with Kick-Ass being the person she cheated with, but she was powerless to her body as her arms slithered around his neck, bringing them even closer together.

* * *

And now everyone really does love every one! Ok, that was bad, I admit. And thank you, Amelia! It's alway great to hear that kind of thing, and as far as fast updates go, I try.

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minors too. Evanescence owns "_Call Me When You're Sober_".


	28. Ending Undoing, issue 3

Lamentation hit with full force later. Much later. Right now, Dave and Emily were still caught up in that good feeling of getting laid after weeks of nothing, and it was amazing! Not only did it feel so incredibly good to be touched by another human being, but they had both experienced something new; Dave was just sweet by nature, and he showed Emily that sex didn't always have to be rough and emotionally scarring to feel great, and she introduced him to some of the darker, more experimental things one could do in the sack. All around, there was a feeling of good vibrations.

But unfortunately, it didn't last as long as they might have hoped for...

Half on her side and half on her stomach, Emily had her back to Dave while they spooned, and she was looking beyond the sea of paper at the TV. It wasn't turned on, so she could see the couch reflected back in the blank screen, and that made her think back to all the times that she and Chris had copulated in front of the television alone, leading up to the last time that they had had sex. For all she knew, that very well could have been the last time that they ever would be intimate...

Arms wrapped around her body, his head was resting far enough back to be looking at her gently breathing form. Dave had noticed it earlier, but since they were so enjoying the moment, he didn't bring it up then, but now that the high was wearing thin, it really hit how almost the entirety of Emily's back was horribly scarred. Intentional, there was a gigantic 'Chris' carved shoulder-to-shoulder, each jagged letter cut into her flesh so deeply that there was likely muscle damage. He knew that it wasn't his place, but seeing how Chris treated his girlfriend was sickening...

Brushing his fingers against the permanent reminder, Dave could feel her flinch. "What was this for?"

There was no way of saying it without upsetting him, she could tell. But, Emily felt like this was a safe enough space, so she didn't abridge it. "When The Toxic Mega Cunts raped your girlfriend, Chris had a hard time cheating on me again. It was a day after I had tried to kill myself, the day that I..." She rubbed her stomach. "Anyways, he said that it was my fault, and once I had recovered from my suicide attempt, he took the very same knife I used and he..." The girl was choking on her tears, so she had to take a moment. "He told me that he wanted me to live with this forever, because he has to live with the knowledge that I ever doubted him... I broke his heart, that's what he said, but I only did it because he broke mine first..." Emily had lost count of how many times he had run the blade through her back, just to be sure that the scars would never fade. But he didn't need to remind her, because her heart was never going to let her forget...

Despicable. Now matter what kind of a person she was or what she might have done, there was just no excuse for harming her in that way. It made sense why she was in no rush to tell him that she had gotten pregnant. "You do realize that if he treats you this way, he'll probably be just as bad with the baby."

"I know." Her voice was small. Whatever she might have said, that was actually one of her biggest fears in keeping it. Emily practically made a living off of being abused and belittled, but to see what could - and probably would - happen to her child... It didn't sit right with her. But there was more to her fear than just that one side - what if Chris treated the child with some kindness? Emily wondered if she would get jealous. It was no secret that jealousy was a third wheel in their relationship, so how would a fourth cog fit into that malfunctioning clockwork they called life? "We both know that I know. I've considered every possibility, and still, every second brings even more mystery... I'm so confused..."

Concern was radiating from every pore as he put his hand on her shoulder. "About the baby?"

Eyes burning, the pain in her eyes was one of dryness, a kind of sorrow beyond tears. "About everything. Me, the baby, Chris... You." Emily rolled over on her back so she was staring at the ceiling, her hands fiddling absently with the air. "I don't know what to think about all of this... I should kill you, for so many reasons, but instead, I find myself wanting to..."

"...To?" He wasn't sure what she was going to say, but if it was what he thought it was, she wasn't alone.

Emily blushed, aware that Dave was looking right at her. "To kiss you."

After what they had done, it seemed a little strange to say a thing like that, but there was a part of him that was secretly glad to hear her saying it. Honestly, he wasn't sure what frightened him more - Mindy not being the only girl he felt something for, or Mindy herself finding out that she wasn't the only girl he wanted...

Holy Jesus fuck! The more that Emily's words settled, the more that they both came to realize what she said and what it meant. Of all the ramifications, the one that seemed to strike out the hardest was the point of what they had done to reach this particular conclusion. Ok, maybe conclusion was a tad strong a term to use, since neither had really reached any sort of final answer, but technicalities were meaningless at the moment.

As if to punish them for what had happened, Emily's phone had begun to ring, and shockingly, it was Angie who was calling her. Since it was the land-line, it went straight to the machine. "...Emma?" Somehow, it was not very shocking to hear that Chris' mother didn't know his girlfriend's name. "Emilia, the exams came back. Chris is going to be fine - the only damage is to his mind." Hearing the way that she spoke about her own son, a lot of things slid into place, and Dave actually felt a bit bad for Chris. "He wants to see you, but before you lie to his face any more, I would like to talk to you first. We expect to see you at the prison in twenty minutes, so don't be late, Gabriella!"

Gabriella? Really? At least the other two monikers were somewhat close to Emily...

Eyes popping out of her skull, she jerked up, looking over at Dave. "Twenty minutes?! There's no way I'm going to be able to make that!"

* * *

Buh-nah-nah! Sinister music, for a sinsiter scene! Seriously, when/if Chris finds out, heads are going to roll...

So, you should review! MaybeIt'sTheVodka did. And a bunch of other people too! So review! Do it!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minor characters too.


	29. Ending Undoing, issue 4

Angie had crossed her arms over her chest - the lighting pronouncing her laugh lines as the older woman grimaced - looking grimmer than a gargoyle. Although, Emily thought distantly to herself as she sat across from the woman that had given birth to her soul mate, the gargoyle was probably the prettier option than Angie at this juncture. Not that it was entirely her fault this time...

"Erica," Angie had pulled Emily aside before she was allowed to visit with Chris, accosting her the minute that she had stepped foot into the prison. They were standing just outside of his room, the guard suddenly very interested in a 'suspicious crack' in the wall several feet away. Must have been nice to be able to afford such privacy. "I know that you're keeping something from my son." The aged matriarch pointed at the young adult accusingly. "I know that you're carrying his spawn." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, as if she were challenging Emily to dare bring up the cold disposition she had recently come to develop for her own child...

But that was hardly the issue here. "What?! How do you know that?!"

Was this girl really so dense to think that she could hide something so obvious? Maybe her son really did deserve this hood-rat after all. "You used to tramp it up in all your tight little clothes, mocking me with your perky little breasts that you had no problem pointing at my family, but lately, you've been wearing a lot of sweaters and baggy trash bags." Angie poked at her excess chub Emily was carrying, wasting absolutely no time in getting to the root of the problem. Hell, even with all the money being thrown at the prison, she could still only afford so much time to waste. "You can't even hide it anymore, fatty."

So, they had finally come to the dreaded point in time when Emily had to break down and beg before Chris' mother. Funny, because for as long as she been preparing herself for this very moment, Emily never once considered that it would have been like this. She had envisioned herself broken-hearted, but never pregnant, and certainly never fresh from an affair...

There was no falsehood in her words as she begged, reaching out at stone, "You can't tell him!"

"And why not?" Angie demanded sharply, quite fond of her new position over the girl. "He should know what it feels like have a child that is loathed by the world. That even its own mother can't accept."

Something snapped inside Emily at that point. Maybe it was just the years of hearing that hypocritical maternal instinct that only seemed to surface when it was convenient finally wearing itself out, but more likely, she took offense to the insinuation that she didn't care for her child, when in fact she was making herself sick with worry. Well, when she wasn't basking in sin or drowning in guilt... Either way, there was just no way to hold this next part back...

"Like you feel about your own son? It's pathetic that you call me out for some jitters when you abandon your son when he needs you the most! Is it really so important what other people say?" The mother-to-be shook her head, "Chris fucked up, yes, and I know I'm far from perfect, but I am not ashamed of Chris, and it should go without saying that you aren't either! I also know that together we'll be better parents than you ever were, because we will love our child, no matter what! I can only imagine what John would say if he could see you now, turning against your own son, threatening the woman carrying his child!"

There was no warning as Angie's hand collided with Emily's face. "Don't you dare talk to me about my husband and what a shitty person I am! At least I knew from the very beginning that I was going to keep my baby! So don't you go acting all high and mighty, you fucking wetback!"

As everything she did with Dave was slowly beginning to creep up on her, Emily was actually kind of glad that Angie had put her in her place, but at the same time, she also wanted to throttle the bitch for choosing the wrong mistakes to target. Well, it was probably better this way. "Fuck off! I'm going in there, and I'm going to make this right!"

Throwing the door open as she turned her back on the bitter husk of a woman, all of the fire inside instantly evaporated the minute her eyes fell on Chris. It wasn't that he looked any different than any of the other times she had seen him in here, but she was. She could feel it. How did she have the nerve to face him? Especially now, not even thirty minutes after sleeping with the guy that had driven him to this point... Feeling worse than the scum of the earth, Emily mused that it should have been her in that bed, if only because she had betrayed him, and at the worst possible time no less! With the worst possible person...

Looking over at her as the door feel closed, Chris smiled - it had been a while since they had last seen each other - and everything she had been feeling weighed down all the more, crushing her instantly. More than almost anything else, Emily wanted to just be swallowed up by the floor so she didn't have to look at Chris. "I was wondering when you would be back. Emily?"

Why did breaking his heart seem so inevitable?

"Chris, we have to talk..." Walking over to the side of his bed with legs full of lead, Emily could only try to force a smile as she put her hands over his, "Baby, something happened..."

"What?" For the first time in a long time, she heard something in his voice that she hadn't for what felt like ages - she heard concern. For a moment, it seemed as if all humanity had left his body when he became the Mother Fucker, but it was back, at least in part...

So why did she have to be the one to snuff that growing ember of hope?

"I..." Cheated. Want to die for hurting you. Don't deserve you. Take your pick. "I really got into it with your mother..." She wanted to confess, but she just couldn't find the words... "I think she's really pissed. Like I'm out-of-the-will mad, and I'm not even in your will."

And now, she never would be...

"About that..." Oh, shit. "I've been thinking..." Oh, fuck! "And I wanted to ask you..." No... No, not this. Anything but this! "You've been by my side this entire time," He moved his hand over hers, which obviously cost him a great deal, "And my dad always told me that you don't find that kind of loyalty every day." It was true - John had said that a lot. "If it comes down to it, I want to know that everything will be looked after, so if I have to plead insanity, I want to put you in charge of my affairs. I already had the paperwork drawn."

The sigh of relief expelled was impossible to miss. But the exact origin was lost to Chris, so he took it another way, fixing his girlfriend with a funny look. "What, you weren't expecting me to propose, where you? Looking like you just rolled out of bed in a cake shop?" And there was the Chris she knew!

* * *

Again, the racial slurs are on the fictional characters saying them, not on me! I hate racism! And homophobia too, but that's not really the issue here... Anyways, yeah, Angie really is a bitch in this. Well, I think she is in general, because I just feel that under no conditions should you treat your child the way you see her treat Chris, regardless of medium.

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minor characters too.


	30. Ending Undoing, issue 5

Does it hurt? Lying to the man to the man that you would trade your very soul for, that just so happened to be the father of your child? It hurt worse than anything she could ever imagine! And yet, no matter how much she didn't want to do it, Emily kept it up, spewing lie after fucking lie. Soon, she knew that she would be in so deep, there would never again be another shred of light through the darkness she had created around herself...

"Hello?" Chris called out to Emily, trying to get her attention. "Are you on something right now? I'm talking to you!"

Shaking herself as his voice finally reached her, she blinked, "Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind right now..."

She had a lot on her mind? He was fucking in prison! And he looked like some reject Frankenstein monster on top of it! What the hell could she be so worried about? "Like what?"

Harsh as his demanding tone was, she knew that he had a right to know, that she couldn't hide it forever. "Part of me wants to run away, to go back home to that empty house in Vermont, but I know that I can't leave you, not like this..."

Rolling his eyes, he was growing impatient with her pointless prattling, "What the fuck are you talking about? Would you just spit it out already? Jesus, fuck!"

"I..."

Before Emily got the chance to finish her sentence, or what was hopefully leading up to one, Angie barged into the room, breaking up a rather lengthy moment of privacy. Instead of looking at her son - something she found next to impossible to do these days - the She-bitch glared over at Emily. "So, did you 'make it right' yet? Whatever that's supposed to mean. Did you tell him that you're now carrying on the legacy of the Genovese name?"

Emily swore, the day that that woman died wouldn't come soon enough...

"What?!" Not only did his voice fail him then, but Chris' eyes decided that they wanted to vacate his skull as quickly as they could, were it not for the retina still holding them in place. Falling into shock, neither woman needed the machines connected to his decumbent form to tell them that his body was trying to reject the news, his heart almost literally stopping for just a fraction of a second, his eyes dilating as the panic quickly became full-blown terror. Wide-eyed, the boy looked imploringly between the both of them, begging for at least one of them to tell him that this was some kind of a sick joke. Yeah, this wasn't some rip-off of Punked!, was it? "Emily? Mommy?"

Distant as she had become, a part of Angie could actually feel what was left of her heart breaking as she saw her son's hysteria breaking through to the surface, but she was too late to do anything about it, because that horrid hussy had already jumped to his side, doing her best to try to make him feel better. Wasn't it enough that she had fanned his sense of entitlement into what it was today? Did she also have to steal what remained of her job as his mother?! Must she be everything to Chris?! Honestly!

As Angie pouted over losing a position she had basically pissed away herself - all while failing to remember that she was partially to blame herself as she too had coddled and spoiled Chris - Emily had managed to talk Chris down, just enough for him to cease hyperventilating. He was obvious far from fine, and time was now slipping into the negatives - thankfully some very fat cats saw the chance at gaining a whole lot of mice and milk from this, so they kept a blind eye - but for a number of reasons, the girl knew that it was her duty to calm him down.

Once he could talk again, Chris could still mostly only gape in disbelief. "What...?"

"Don't look at this like you've lost your mother to her faulty tanning bed - think about it like your gaining someone else. That we're getting another little person to share all of the love that we could never hope to express to each other. We're going to be a family when you get out of here, and... Honey?" Watching in alarm as he began to laugh, Emily felt her grip on his hand falter for a moment.

Bursting out with a sound that started out like a laugh, Chris was torn between the desire to cry as well, because there was just no way in hell that Emily really was pregnant! There was just no fucking way! Sure, there had been that one serious scare back when they had first started dating, but that had been proven false, so this was the same thing! It had to be... Although... He looked at her - more critical than normal - it would make sense as to why she was getting so fat... But pregnant?! There was just no way that she was that retarded... But was Emily that vindictive? Chris knew that it was a common female practice to trap the male by producing offspring, but Emily? It was possible that this was her way of getting back at him for some imagined slight... No, had that been the case, she would have run to his side and just rubbed his face in it... Unless she wasn't sure as to who the father was...

"So, whose is it? Who is the fucker you slept with behind my back?" He would have crossed his arms, but currently that really wasn't much of an option for him.

Naturally her mind jumped straight to Dave, but theree was no possible way he could have known about that. Not yet. "What?! I didn't... I haven't been... What kind of a person would cheat on their boyfriend while he's hurt and in prison?!"

Good God, this woman was a complete moron, wasn't she? "I mean who knocked you up, dumb-ass. Although, you do look like you could have eaten triplets..." Chris' eyes narrowed suddenly as something dawned on him, "Wait, you haven't been sleeping around, have you? It would be easy enough for a nymphomaniac like you to forget that I'm locked up for an hour or two...So help me God, if I find out that you betrayed my trust... So help me, I might put your head through a fucking wall!"

Gathering what he meant (now), Emily scowled, "I'll have you know that this child is yours, no doubt! And I..." Well, she couldn't really deny the rest of his accusations, not honestly. "You know that I love you, and only you! You ass!" And then something hit her. "Wait, might?" Was it possible that he was legitimately starting to change? To reconsider his ways? Becuase the Chris she knew wouldn't have hesitated for a moment.

Studying her face - and weighing in all the facts - Chris couldn't deny that she did love him, and that he loved her, and that there was no way she could ever betray that. "So, you really are pregnant, aren't you?" He gave that statement a moment to settle, but it still didn't feel real. "Do you know what it is?"

Well this was a disappointing outcome... Angie had hoped that this was going to put an end to them... Well, there was always next time... And knowing them, there would certainly be a next time... Probably sooner than later too.

Smiling cautiously, Emily was glad to hear him taking an interest in their child. "Not yet - I was too busy worrying about how you were going to take the news... But my next appointment is coming up, so I should be able to find out soon." Oh, God, he was taking an interest in the baby! That might have been worse than him not caring at all...

* * *

Begging for reviews aside, I can tell you all that there will be at least one more segment to come, so that's good, right? Or is it kinda sad? Well, anyways, I had a difficult time with this one, because I wasn't entire sure how Chris would react, so I basically put in two scenarios. But mostly I think he would fall into blind hysterics, kinda like how he was when he killed his mother. Serious though, I love how when she died, not a single fuck was given! Chris panicked for what, a second? And I love how Javier didn't really even address her death directly. Anyways, you should review!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minor characters too.


	31. What Is Love? issue 1

Springing up in bed with a cold sweat, Emily didn't immediately realize that her nightmares had also jarred her companion awake as well. Mumbling in a voice that promised he was still half-asleep, Dave made half an effort to stir from dreams that involved two slightly (ok, technically the levels were closer to certifiable) disturbed and unhinged girls and a lot of spandex. "What is it?"

Initially reluctant to confess what her dreams had entailed, all Emily could do was think of Chris and how he would have reacted if she had told him what it was. But then again, Dave wasn't Chris, and that was probably half the reason she hadn't ended this affair, no matter how much it was eating at her. "I was having the most horrific dream... I..." Shaking her head, it was becoming too much for her.

Sensing that perhaps it was more than just being six months pregnant - give or take - he could feel the tiredness slowly draining away as he was filled with a growing concern for the woman by his side. Ever the hero, Dave sat up, pulling her into his arms. "About Chris?" He could feel her nodding against his chest, but there was no sound coming from her lips. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Silence. But besides waking him up in the middle of the night, it wasn't really something that she could keep to herself, so Emily found herself confiding in Dave for possibly the millionth time. "As I've mentioned before, Chris is getting out soon, and more and more I find myself having these dreams... Dreams of him killing me, of him taking the baby, of him finding us together and doing all manner of things... There was even one where he sent me away to clown school." Realizing that she was getting off topic, the young mother-to-be cleared her throat, getting back to her point. "None of them were even half as bad as this..."

_Sound asleep_,_ so cozy and unaware in his bed, Chris was helpless in that empty room, the monitors off or gone. Standing over his slumbering figure, all she could hear was his steady breathing, synching every now and again with the metallic whirring and beeping of machines. It was as peaceful as it was maddening..._

_Foreboding as an angel of death in those solemn finial moments before life parted its living shell, Emily stood over Chris, just gazing down at him, but her face was like stone - void of all emotion. Barely even blinking, she took a common kitchen knife to this throat, slitting ear-to-ear. There was no sound; he didn't even twitch._

And then it was over. "I... I killed him. I killed him! Dave, how am I supposed to face him after all of this?! I broke his trust all over this place, and now the guilt has me killing him!" Practically screaming in his ear, he found himself glad once more for the fact that they were in a penthouse, the floors and walls of which had been soundproofed. Probably so he could beat the poor girl. Fucker. "I know I decided to try and work everything out with him, but how can I? How can I when a part of me wants to kill him? When I can't get over you? What are we going to do the day that he gets out?"

That was a question they had been asking since the beginning, and as time passed, their bond had grown considerably, making it that much harder to call it off. It wasn't that they loved Mindy and Chris any less; they just had really grown to like each other too. And what was worse was that since the neighbors had seen Dave coming and going, it would look suspicious if he just stopped coming around now that rumors were starting to circulate about Chris' release. Naturally the public was in the dark on the details, but they did know that he was getting out soon. Since Chris' uncle was taking Chris back to the house, Emily had been invited as well, but even with the perks that would provide to cover this affair alone, she was in no rush to accept that offer. Not like she really had a choice...

"You know you could always just stay at headquarters." Dave had made that suggestion a few times now, granted a small part of it was just so he could use her moving in as an excuse to get rid of that douche calling himself 'The Juicer', but he genuinely wouldn't have minded. He probably would have been one of the only ones who didn't...

Smiling at his generosity, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, "You're sweet, but you know I can't. The family won't ever let me out of their sight, not knowing that I'm the mother of their heir. Besides, once you rescue Hit Girl, I think I'll be in even more danger there than anywhere else in the world. I'd rather take my chances with that creep and the rest of the family than her. No offense."

No, Mindy really was the greater of two evils, so he didn't blame her.

[**The Next Morning...**]

If they thought that last night had sucked, Emily was in for a rude awaking. Literally.

Sleeping soundly in Dave's arms, slumber no more peaceful, Emily almost didn't hear the phone ringing from its place on the nightstand, her head buried between the pillow and his arm, but by the third ring, it was impossible to miss as it seemed to get louder with each additional chime. Growling, she picked the phone up, "What?!"

It was Chris. Well, the lawyer that represented Chris and handled almost all of the calls his mother didn't concern herself with, but by extension, it was Chris. "Ms. Emily," It was annoying, but that was the most informal she could get him, "You should get down here. There was an incident."

"What kind of an incident, Murdock? How's Chris?!" Panicked, it was impossible to figure out when she had jumped out of bed and was wrestling with a jacket. Watching her struggle with the fabric as she tried to zip it up over her large belly, Dave started to dig around for his pants, finding them half under the bed, kicked over from last night. Slipping them on, he tried to remain as quiet as possible while she prepared to head out to the prison.

Perhaps the least favorite part of his job, Murdock Walters simply despised having to be the one to break this kind of thing to the family, especially when that family was an emotional teenage girl. "Mrs. Genovese has just been taken into custody for trying to murder her own son." There was more to the story than that, but given the history with his client's mother, that was probably the more pressing piece of information.

Standing in the middle of the front door, Emily's jaw fell slack, and she looked over her shoulder at Dave in shock. "How's he holding up? Tell him I'll be right there!" Hanging up the phone, she could only continue to gape at her secret lover. "Someone just tried to kill Chris." As the shock began to fade, it was promptly replaced by tearful guilt. "I just had a dream about killing him, and now...!" She choked back on a rather loud sob, "I don't know what I'd do if he died..."

* * *

Kay, I'm not technically sure how long Chris was in prison, so I went back and skimmed over a few of the issues (via Youtube), but I came back with 6 months, according to what Uncle Rocco said when talking about the possible wrongful imprisonment lawsuit. And yes, that is a reference to two lawyers in the Marvel universe. Oh, sweet, sweet fubar! How I've missed writing these fucked-up scenarios!

And how much I miss the sight of your reviews! Begging not so much.

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minor characters too.


	32. What Is Love? issue 2

Bouncing nervously against the balls of her feet as she sat in Walter's office while he briefed her and Rocco (and Rocco's bodyguards) on what had exactly happened and what the plan was from this point on, all Emily could think of was wrapping her arms around Chris, telling him that she would never let anyone hurt him. Of course that was the ultimate form of hypocrisy, but hearing what Angie had tried to do, it made her realize just much she truly did love Chris, and how lost she would be without him.

Rocco made note of the look on her face throughout the meeting, gathering that at least on some level, the girl did care about his nephew. He didn't really hold her lot in high regard personally, but Chrissy did, and aside from carrying on the future of the family, she had proved that she was somewhat worthwhile. Yet there was one thing he didn't like about her (more than the anatomy that didn't fall between her legs), and that was that her only two associates were male. Rather attractive males at that, and one of them wasn't into the same sex...

"Can I see him? I think seeing the baby might help calm him down." Emily looked from the door long enough to pay the lawyer an ounce of attention.

Murdock shook his head, "I don't-"

Glowing with a sudden fire, Emily's eyes burned through him, the hormones lending a near-demonic pitch to her voice as she repeated herself. "I think seeing the baby might help calm him down."

Glancing helplessly over at the don for his answer, Rocco figured it might help do the kid some good. "Have a heart and let the kid see his family."

Nodding meekly, Murdock sent her on her way (once she had rolled out of the chair that is). "Of course. You go check on young Christopher, make sure he's holding up."

Holding up? Was that ass-hat fucking kidding?! How could anyone be alright after their own mother pointed a gun at them with the intent to kill?! For fuck's sake! So bothered by that remark, Emily paused to consider turning back around and giving the lawyer a piece of her mind, but Chris had been alone for far too long now. Lucky for that leech...

[**Meanwhile, across town...**]

Swinging the full plastic bag over his head with some difficulty as his best friend, co-worker, and roommate held the lid open, Dave tossed out the trash in the dumpster. Since he was so busy with basically running Justice Forever, Kick-Ass didn't have many chores around the apartment, but the trash was still his territory. Kind of fitting though.

Grunting, there was no mistaking the pop and click of his shoulder as he released the waste. "Shoulder again?" Normally he didn't have help with this, but ever since dislocating his shoulder, Dave wasn't alone. No one knew the truth behind his injury, not even his closest friends, but the truth was that it was the aftermath of telling a pregnant woman that she should consider getting therapy (although something told the hero that even if she hadn't been pregnant at the time, she still would have acted unfavorably). "How'd that happen anyways?"

Dave just sort of shrugged and gave the same answer he always did, "I got it on patrol one night." Pussy patrol, maybe. But it wasn't as if he wanted to broadcast that, so he did the best he could to down-play it. "It should be all healed up in another week or two."

Skeptical of the nature of the injury in the first place (Dave had bailed on a number of things saying he was on patrol when in fact no one had seen him out prowling the streets for trouble on those occasions), the young hero had the distinct impression his best friend was talking about something else entirely...

[**Back in the prison...**]

Petrified that someone else would come into the room to finish his mother's work, Chris' eyes never once left the door, the additional security placed in his room full of fidgety fingers. He jumped visibly when Emily poked her head into the room, her face proceeded by a very round bundle protruding from baggy maternity wear. He almost smiled at the sight of her and the baby, but then what was to say that she too wasn't harboring some kind of sick, secret desire to kill him? If his own mother was capable of attempting to murder him, what was to keep Emily from it?

"Chris?" Whispering as if the sound of her voice might alert some kind of slumbering dragon guarding a mountain's worth of dwarfish treasure, she did her best to tip-toe to his side, her hands falling over one of his own. "Chris, I came as soon as I could, but Murdock insisted that your uncle Rocco and I talk to him first. Idiot."

Just hearing the defensiveness in her tone was enough to make him dismiss any thoughts he might have that she would ever want to hurt him. Besides his father and Javier, Emily had been the only other person that truly ever cared about him, and he felt terrible to suspect that she would ever turn on him. Emily would never do that, not to him. Besides the kid, they were all the other had now...

For as horrible as he had treated this girl, she had stood loyally by his side through it all. She was his rock. "You should have just had uncle Rocco take care of it - you know you shouldn't be stressing yourself out."

Part of her wanted to slap herself upside the head for ever doubting that Chris would be there for the baby. Chuckling weakly, Black Heart shook her head, a couple of tears lighting the corner of her eyes, "Bullshit I'd stand back and let anyone else take full responsibility for you. You know that I'll always be right there for you, no matter what. Yours is the only corner I'll ever back."

Standing there in that room, between seeing how shaken up Chris was and being so indescribably relieved to see that she didn't loose him today, she made a promise to herself - whatever it took she was going to end it with Dave once and for all. She loved Chris, and it never should have gotten this far...

Never again...

* * *

A reference to the Hobbit, my good friends. I know at least one of you out there might appreciate that. Hopefully more, but I don't judge for what you like or don't like. Not that I judge. But anyways, what will come of this promise? Can Emily keep it this time and end it for good? Or will something totally different happen? You'll just have to stay tuned to find out next time!

Kick-Ass is the property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Emily Vela is mine. Knight, and all minor characters too.


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